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'0  Jfolto 


anD  Romances 


l?0l.  IS. 


LONDON  -.    FEINTED   BY 

8POTTISWOODE    AND    CO.,    NEW-STEKET    SQTTAEB 
AND    PARLIAMENT    STEEET 


jFolto 


an& 


EDITED    BY 


JOHN  W.  HALto,  M.A. 

FKLLOW     AND     LATE    ASSISTANT-TUTOR     OF     CHRIST'S    COLLEGE,     CAMBRIDGK 


AND 


FKEDEKICK  J.  FUKNIVALL,  M.A. 

OF    TRINITY    HALL,    CAMBRIDGE. 


(ASSISTED   BY   PROF.   CHILD,  OF  HARVARD   UNIV.,  U.S.  J   W.   CHAPPELL,  ESQ.,  &C.    fcc. 


M. 


LONDON : 
.    TRUBNER    &   CO.,    60   PATERNOSTER    ROW. 

1868. 


MICRQFOR/AED  BY 

PRESERVATION 

SERVICES 

DATE   SEP  0  8  1PftQ 


CONTENTS 


THE     SECOND     VOLUME. 


PAGE 

THE    REVIVAL    OF    BALLAD    POETRY   IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY       .  V 

ON    "  BONDMAN,"    THE    NAME    AND    THE    CLASS  .  .  .  XXxiii 

NOTES       ...........    Ixiii 

CHEVY   CHASE      ..........  1 

WHEN    LOVE    WITH    UNCONFINED    WINGS  .  .  .  .  .17 

CLORIS,    FAREWELL,    I    NEEDS    MUST    GO 21 

THE    KINGE    ENJOYES    HIS    RIGHTS   AGAINE 24 

THE   jEGIPTIAN   QUENE  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .26 

HOLLOWE,    ME    FANCYE  .  ...  .  .  .  .  .         30 

NEWARKE ...........         oo 

AMONGST   THE    M1RTLES 35 

THE    WORLDE    IS    CHANGED,    AND   WEE    HAVE    CHOYCES       ...         37 
THE    TRIBE    OF    BANBURYE     ........         39 

AY   ME,    AY    ME  !    PORE  SISLEY    AND    UNDONE    .  .  .  .43 

FAINE   WOLDE    I    CHANGE    MY    MAIDEN    LIFE      .....         46 

WHEN    FIRST   I    SAWE    HER   FACE  .......         48 

HOW   FAYRE    SHEE    BE  ........         50 

COME,    COME,    COME,    SHALL    WEE    MASQUE    OR   MUM  .  .  .52 

THE    GRENE    KNIGHT   .........         56 

SIR   TRIAMORE     ..........         78 

GUYE    AND   AMARANT   .........       136 

CALES   VOYAGE    ..........       144 

KINGE   AND   MILLER     .  .   '  .  .  .  .  .  .147 

AGINCOURTE  BATTELL  (see  Appendix,  p.  595)         .         .         .          .158 


F  CONTENTS    OF   THE    SECOND   VOLUME, 

PA.GB 

CONSCIENCE         .......  .174 

DURHAM    FEILDE  .  '.  .  .  .  .  .190 

GUY  AND  PHILLIS  (for  the  beginning,  see  Appendix,  p.  608)  .          .     201 

JOHN   A   SIDE      . 203 

RISINGE    IN   THE    NORTHE      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .      210 

NORTHUMBERLAND    BETRAYD    BY    DOWGLAS        .  .  .'  •  .217 

GUYE  OF    GISBORNE     . .227 

HEREFFORD    AND   NORFOLKE  .....  .       238 

LADYES   FALL 246 

BUCKINGAM    BETRAYD    BY   BANISTER          ......       253 

EARLE    BODWELL 260 

BISHOPPE   AND   BROWNE         .  .  .  .  .  .  •  •       265 

CHILDE    WATERS  .........       269 

BESSIE    OFF   BEDNALL  ........       279 

HUGH    SPENCER .290 

KINGE   ADLER .  .  .296 

BOY    AND  MANTLE         .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .      301 

WHITE   ROSE   AND   RED 312 

BELL   MY    WIFFE  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .      320 

I  LIVE    WHFRE    I   LOVE  ........       325 

YOUNGF-  -JUSPEP.W.  -    .    ' 327 

—ll   JfUGE     .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .       334 

EGLAMORE  .  .  338 

THE    EMPEROUR   AND   THE    CHILDE  ......      390 

SITTINGE    LATE  .  .  .  . 400 

LIBIUS   DISCONIUS         ..........      404 

CHILDE    MAURICE ".  .  .       500 

PHILLIS   HOE       .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .507 

GUY  AND  COLEBRANDE     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .   509 

JOHN  DE  REEVE     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .   559 

APPENDIX      .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .   595 

TWO  AGINCOURT  BALLADS     .......   595 

KING  ESTMERE  (two  versions,  from  the  1st  and  kill  editions  of 

The  Reliques)       ........     600 

GUY  AND  PHILLIS  (the  first  eleven  stanzas  of)  608 


CORRIGENDA. 


p.  9,  1.  68,  for  armour  read  armor. 


P-  16, 
p.  23, 
p.  28, 

p.  29, 
p.  41, 
p.  46, 


.  253,  for  and  read  &. 

.  9,  for  [and]  read  &. 

.  6,  for  with  read  with. 

.  22,  _/<»•  between  read  botweeno. 

.  77,  ybr  thein  read  them. 

.  9,  for  up  read  vp. 


.  7,  for  bells  rawZ  bell, 
p,  60,  note  8,  for  theye  read  they, 
p.  63,  1.  134;  p.  66, 1.  203,  215  ;for  and  read  &. 
p.  72,  note  3 :  the  r  has  fatten  out  of  the  A.-Sax.  Gram, 
p.  77,  note,  col.  1,  1.  2;  for  missed.    As  read  missed,  as. 
p.  140,  1.  109,  add  witt  at  the  end  of  the  line. 

note  l,for  Strowt  yn  read  Strowtyn. 
p.  159,  1.  7,  for  1569  read  1659. 
p.  164,  note  2,  for  terme  read  tenne. 
p.  254,  1.  12,  for  Robert  read  Richard. 

p.  379,  notes,  col.  2,  for  "  1867  "  read  "  Babces  Book,  &c.  1868." 
KB,  The  reading  of  the  vol.  with  the  MS.  was  stopt  at  p.  74  by  the  return  of  the 

MS.  to  its  owners. 


\ 


: 


Corrections. 

Profaoo.  line  4,  for  Grey  read  Guy 
Page  xl     ,,    1,  for  villan  read  villans 

,,  xlvii.  The  quotation,  Sect.  189,  is  from  Littleton  translated 
„     1,  line  1,  for  wines  read  wines 

„  18,  21,  hulde  means  '  flay ' 
„    liv    ,,     1,  cut  out  be 

„  26,  for  English  history  read  early  history 
,,  Iviii  ,,     3,  Redde  quod  debcs  belongs  to  line  2 

note  l,for  line  12  read  page  Ixi,  line  2 
.,  lix,  line  21,  for  ser  ned  read  smied 
„    Ix     „    25,  for  saves  read  save 
,,  Ixxi   „      2,  for  Horn  read  Horn 


Percy  Ballads,  Vol.  II. 


THE  KEVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY  IN  THE 
EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY. 


THE  last  century  in  England  was  in  more  respects  than  one  a 
valley  of  dry  bones.  About  the  middle  of  it,  "  they  were  very 
many,"  and  "they  were  very  dry."  Shortly  afterwards,  "behold,  a 
noise,"  and  the  bones  began  to  come  together.  These  signs  of  life 
were  followed  by  a  growing  animation.  From  the  four  quarters 
came  the  wind,  and  breathed  on  the  quickening  mass.  From 
the  north  it  came  in  its  strength  ;  from  the  east  and  the  west  it 
blew  vigorously ;  from  the  south  it  rushed  with  a  wild  furious 
sweeping  blast  that  changed  the  face  of  the  valley.  So  at  last 
the  century  revived — its  dull  lack-lustre  eyes  brightened — its 
stagnant  pulse  leapt — it  lived. 

I  do  not  now  propose  to  attempt  a  full  description  of  this 
mighty  revival.  But  I  propose  confining  myself  to  one  par 
ticular  feature  of  it — the  appreciation  of  our  older  literature, 
and  especially  of  our  ballad  poetry.  The  century  that  had  long 
been  fully_sj;tisfied  with  its  own  productions,  at  last  recognised 
that  the  English  literature  of  ages  that  had  preceded  it  was 
not  wholly  barbarous.  The  century  that  had  given  up  itself  to 
rules,  and  reduced  the  art  of  poetry  to  a  mechanical  trick,  at 
last  acknowledged  graces  beyond  the  reach  of  its  art.  At  last 
it  was  brniiflfrfr  tn  apft  tha.t  there  were  more  things  in  heaven 
and  earth  than  were  dreamt  of  in  its  philosophy. 

It  discovered  that  there  were  innumerable  beauties  around  it 
to  which  it  had  long  been  blind.  It  left  its  gardens  and  its 
"VOL.  "if.™  a 


Vi  THE  REVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY 

elaborate  manipulations  of  nature  to  see  Nature  herself.  It 
gave  over  refining  the  lily  and  gilding  the  rose  to  look  at  the 
flowers  in  their  simple  beauty.  It  became  conscious  of  the 
exquisite  beauties  and  glories  of  Switzerland,  of  the  English 
lakes,  of  Wales.  New  worlds  of  splendour,  and  of  noble  enjoy 
ment,  dawned  upon  it.  Not  greater  discoveries  were  made  by 
Columbus  and  his  followers  four  centuries  before  than  were 
then  made.  The  age,  with  all  its  self-complaisance,  had  been 
living  in  a  prison.  The  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  it  .came 
forth  to  feel  and  enjoy  the  fresh  breezes  and  the  gracious 
sunshine.  A  huger,  more  dismal,  more  cramping  Bastile  than 
that  of  Paris  fell  along  with  it.  The  age  saw  at  the  same  time 
that,  besides  the  beauties  of  nature,  there  were  beauties  that 
the  art  of  former  days  had  bequeathed  it.  It  began  to  discern 
the  subtle  loveliness  of  old  cathedral  churches  that  studded  the 
country.  It  had  long  eyed  them  with  much  disfavour.  It  had 
sadly  disfigured  them  with  adornments  of  its  own  devising,  and 
according  with  its  own  notions.  It  had  deplored  them  as 
monstrous  relics  of  a  profound  barbarism.  But  at  last  the 
scales  fell  from  its  eyes,  and  it  saw  that  these  "  tabernacles 
of  the  Lord  of  Hosts"  were  "amiable."  .It  awoke,  to  their 
supreme,  lavish,  refined  beautifulness.  So  with  respect  to 
other  branches  of  Gothic  art,  other  fruits  of  the  old  Romantic 
times,  they  came  to  a  better  appreciation  of  them.  Poets  and 
poems  that  had  for  many  a  day  been  relegated  to  neglect  and 
oblivion,  were  more  frankly  and  fairly  valued.  Voices  that 
had  long  been  silenced  or  ignored  began  to  find  a  hearing 
and  a  heeding  audience.  As  Greek  literature  was  revived  in 
the  fifteenth,  so  was  Romantic  in  the  eighteenth. 

A  fair  criterion  of  the  progress  of  the  century  in  the  re 
cognition  of  the  Romantic  age  is  its  appreciation  of  Chaucer. 
The  most  important  event  of  the  century  regarding  him  is  the 
appearance  of  Tyrwhitt's  edition  of  him  in  1775.  Then  at  last 


IN   THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  vii 

an  attempt  was  made  to  vindicate  his  fame  from  the  imputation 
of  rudeness  ;  to  show  that  he,  no  less  than  the  eighteenth- 
century  poets,  had  some  sense  of  melody,  some  talent  for 
character-drawing,  some  power  of  language.  Sp  enser  was  more 
readily  and  continuously  accepted.  The  age  sympathised  with 
the  moralising  part  of  his  genius,  and  found  pleasure  in  imi- 
ta^tngpMnT; — But,"  al?  T  have  said,  I  propose  now  considering 
the  history  of  our  ballad  poetry  ;  and  to  it  I  turn. 

The  most  signal  event  regarding  it  is  the  publication  of 
Percy's  Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry  in  1765.  Let  us 
see  how  the  century  was  prepared,  or  had  been  preparing,  for 
that  famous  publication. 

Our  English  ballads,  though  highly  popular  in  the  Elizabethan 
age,  as  innumerable  allusions  to  them  in  Shakespeare  and  the 
other  dramatists,  and  in  the  general  literature  of  the  time,  show, 
were  yet-  never  collected  into  any  volume,  save  in  Garlands, 
till  the  year  1723.  They  wandered  up  and  down  the  country 
without  even  sheepskins  or  goatskins  to  protect  them.  They 
flew  about  like  the  birds  of  the  air,  and  sung  songs  dear  to  the 
heart  of  the  common  people — songs  whose  power  was  sometimes 
confessed  by  the  higher  classes,  but  not  so  thoroughly  appreciated 
as  to  induce  them  to  exert  themselves  for  their  preservation. 
They  were  looked  down  upon  as  things  that  were  very  good  in 
their  proper  place,  but  which  must  not  be  admitted  into  higher 
society.  They  were  admired  in  a  condescending  manner.  They 
were  much  better  than  could  be  expected.  But  no  one  thought 
of  them  as  popular  lyrics  of  great  intrinsic  value.  No  one  put 
forth  a  hand  to  save  them  from  perishing.  The  custom  of 
covering  the  walls  of  houses  with  them  that  happily  prevailed 
in  the  seventeenth  century  did  something  for  their  preservation. 
So  secured,  they  had  a  better  chance  of  keeping  a  place  in 
men's  memories,  and  meeting  some  day  appreciative  eyes. 
Towards  the  end  of  the  said  century  were  made  one  or  two 

a  2 


yiii  THE    REVIVAL    OF   BALLAD   POETRY 

collections  of  the  broad  sheets  containing  them.  The  black- 
letter  literature  of  the  people  was  collected  rather  for  its 
curiousness  than  its  power  or  beauty,  by  antiquaries  rather 
than  by  poets  or  enjoyers  of  poetry.  Whatever  their  motives, 
let  us  praise  Wood  and  Harley,  Selden  1  and  Pepys,  Rawlinson, 
Douce,  and  Bagford,  for  their  services  in  gathering  together 
and  protecting  the  frail  outcasts  from  destruction.  They  were 
as  great  benefactors  of  the  old  ballads  as  Captain  Coram  was  of 
foundlings.  Be  their  names  glorified ! 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  powerful  mind  of  Dryden 
justly  appreciated  the  strength  of  our  old  literature,  although 
he  so  far  bows  before  the  spirit  of  his  age  as  to  deface  it  for 
the  reception  of  that  age.  Even  when  he  revised  and  spoiled 
Chaucer's  works,  he  felt  the  power  of  them.  But  he  resigned 
his  own  judgment  to  that  of  his  contemporaries.  This  Sam 
son  in  his  captivity  consented  to  make  merry  and  carouse 
with  his  captors — to  translate  the  songs  he  loved  into  the 
Philistine  dialect.  He  had  a  fine  appreciation  of  the  old 
ballads.  "  I  have  heard,"  says  a  Spectator,  "  that  the  late 
Lord  Dorset,  who  had  the  greatest  wit  tempered  with  the 
greatest  candour,  and  was  one  of  the  finest  critics  as  well  as 
the  best  poets  of  his  age,  had  a  numerous  collection  of  old 
English  ballads,  and  took  a  particular  pleasure  in  the  reading 
of  them.  I  can  affirm  the  same  of  Mr.  Dryden,  and  know 
several  of  the  most  refined  writers  of  our  present  age  who  are 
of  the  same  humour."  He  is,  I  think,  the  first  collector  of 
poems  who  conceded  to  popular  ballads  their  due  place, — who 
admitted  them  into  the  society  of  other  poems — poems  by  the 
most  Eminent  Hands, — who  perceived  their  excellence,  and 
welcomed  them  accordingly.  To  other  collectors  of  that  date 
it  was  as  disgraceful  to  a  poem  as  to  a  man  to  have  no  father, 

1  Tradition  says  that  Pepys  "  borrowed  "  a  part  of  his  Collection  from  Selden, 
and  forgot  to  return  it. — W.  C. 


IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY.  IX 

or  to  be  suspected  of  a  common  origin.  Dryden  rose  above 
this  prejudice.  He  showed  one  or  two  ballads  the  same  hospi 
tality  as  he  extended  to  the  poetasters  of  Oxford  and  Cambridge, 
whose  name  was  Legion  at  this  time.  In  the  Miscellany  Poems, 
edited  by  him,  of  which  the  first  volume  appeared  in  1684,  the 
last  in  1708,  eight  years  after  his  death,  are  to  be  found  "  Little 
Musgrave  and  the  Lady  Bernard,"  certainly  one  of  the  most 
vigorous  ballads  in  our  language ;  "  Chevy  Chase, "  with  a 
rhyming  Latin  translation  ;  "  Johnnie  Armstrong,"  "  Gilderoy," 
"  The  Miller  and  the  King's  Daughters."  But  the  evil  that  men 
do  lives  after  them.  Dryden,  in  his  "  Knight's  Tale  "  and  other 
works,  had  set  the  fashion  of  imitating  and  modernising  our  old 
poems.  That  fashion  survived  him.  For  more  than  half  a 
century  after  his  death,  with  the  exception  of  the  insertion  of 
two  or  three  in  Play  ford's  *  Wit  and  Mirth,  or  Pills  to  purge 
Melancholy,  and  of  the  Collection  of  Old  Ballads  above  referred 
to,  we  have  produced  in  England  imitations  or  adaptations  of 
ballads — no  faithful  reprint  of  the  genuine  thing.  The  wine 
that  the  age  had  given  it  to  drink  was  a  miserable  dilution,  or 
only  coloured  water.  Conspicuous  amongst  these  imitators  or 
adapters  were  Parnell,  Prior,  and  Tickell.  But  there  were  two 
men  in  Queen  Anne's  time  who  had  a  genuine  relish  for  old 
ballads,  and  who  said  a  good  word  for  them.  These  were 
Addison  and  Rowe.  Addison's  taste  for  them  had  been  awakened 
during  his  travels  on  the  Continent.  "  When  I  travelled,"  he 
writes,  "  I  took  a  particular  delight  in  hearing  the  songs  and 
fables  that  are  come  from  father  to  son,  and  are  most  in  vogue 
among  the  common  people  of  the  countries  through  which  I 
passed  ;  for  it  is  impossible  that  anything  should  be  universally 
tasted  and  approved  by  a  multitude,  though  they  are  only  the 
rabble  of  a  nation,  which  hath  not  in  it  some  peculiar  aptness 

1  This  Collection,  though  generally  (1719),  in  six  volumes.  Five  were 
called  D'Urfey's,  was  Henry  Playford's.  printed  in  1714  ;  the  first  volume  in 
D'Urfey  edited  only  the  last  edition  1699.— W.  C. 


X  THE  REVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY 

to  please  and  gratify  the  mind  of  man."  He  gives,  as  is  well 
known,  two  numbers  of  the  Spectator  to  a  consideration  of 
"  Chevy  Chase,"  one  to  that  of  the  "  Children  in  the  Wood." 
"  The  old  song  of  *  Chevy  Chase,' "  he  writes,  "  is  the  favourite 
ballad  of  the  common  people  of  England,  and  Ben  Jonson  used 
to  say  he  had  rather  have  been  the  author  of  it  than  of  all  his 
works."  Then  he  quotes  Sir  Philip  Sidney's  famous  words ;  and 
then  adds,  "  For  my  own  part  I  am  so  professed  an  admirer  of 
this  antiquated  song  that  I  shall  give  my  reader  a  critick  upon 
it,  without  any  further  apology  for  so  doing."  And  he  proceeds 
to  investigate  the  poem  according  to  the  critical  rules  of  his 
time.  He  compares  it  with  other  heroic  poems,  and  illustrates 
it  from  Virgil  and  Horace.  He  read  the  old  ballad  in  the  light 
of  his  age — viewed  and  reviewed  it  in  a  somewhat  narrow  spirit. 
But  he  did  read  it — he  did  look  at  it.  In  spite  of  the  confining 
criticism  and  hypercriticism  of  the  day,  he  did  feel  and  recognise 
its  power.  "  Thus  we  see,"  his  examen  concludes, ."  how  the 
thoughts  of  this  poem,  which  naturally  arise  from  the  subject, 
are  always  simple,  and  sometimes  exquisitely  noble ;  that  the 
language  is  often  very  sounding,  and  that  the  whole  is  written 
with  a  true  poetical  spirit."  In  another  paper  he  calls  attention 
to  and  expresses  the  "  most  exquisite  pleasure  "  he  had  received 
from  "The  Two  Children  in  the  Wood,"  which  he  had  en 
countered  pasted  upon  the  wall  of  some  house  in  the  country. 
He  describes  it  as  "  one  of  the  darling  songs  of  the  common 
people,"  and  as  having  been  (( the  delight  of  most  Englishmen 
in  some  part  of  their  age  ; "  and  then  he  discusses  it  after  his 
manner.  "  The  tale  of  it  is  a  pretty  tragical  story,  and  pleases 
for  no  other  reason  but  because  it  is  a  copy  of  nature.  There 
is  even  a  despicable  simplicity  in  the  verse ;  and  yet  because  the 
sentiments  appear  genuine  and  unaffected,  they  are  able  to 
move  the  mind  of  the  most  polite  reader  «with  inward  meltings 
of  humanity  and  compassion."  But  he  could  not  bring  his 


IN  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  XI 

contemporaries  to  sympathise  with  him.  They  would  not  hear, 
charmed  he  never  so  wisely.  His  "  Chevy  Chase  "  papers  were 
ridiculed  and  parodied  by  Dennis  and  Wagstaff  and  kindred 
spirits.  To  them  perhaps  he  alludes  in  the  concluding  words 
of  his  notice  of  the  other  ballad  he  reviews :  "  As  for  the  little 
conceited  wits  of  the  age,"  he  writes,  "  who  can  only  show  their 
judgment  by  finding  fault,  they  cannot  be  supposed  to  admire 
those  productions  which  have  nothing  to  recommend  them  but 
the  beauties  of  nature,  when  they  do  not  know  how  to  relish 
even  those  compositions  that,  with  all  the  beauties  of  nature, 
have  also  the  additional  advantages  of  art."  He  fought  a  losing 
battle.  What  appreciation  of  the  old  things  there  was  at  the 
beginning  of  the  century  was  rapidly  decaying.  An  age  of 
elaborate  artificiality,  and  studied  affectation,  was  dawning. 

I  have  mentioned  Rowe  as  sharing  Addison's  appreciation 
of  the  old  ballads.  He  takes  for  one  of  his  plays  a  subject  that 
was  the  theme  of  a  widely  popular  ballad,  and  in  introducing 
his  tragedy,  deprecates  the  adverse  prejudices  of  his  audience, 
and  speaks  boldly  in  favour  of  the  elder  literature,  and  against 
the  wretched  affectations  of  his  time.  The  Prologue  to  his 
"Jane  Shore,"  first  acted  in  1713,  opens  thus: 

To-night,  if  you  have  brought  your  good  old  taste, 

We'll  treat  you  with  a  downright  English  feast, 

A  tale  which,  told  long  since  in  homely  wise, 

Hath  never  failed  of  melting  gentle  eyes. 

Let  no  nice  sir  despise  the  hapless  dame 

Because  recording  ballads  chaunt  her  name  ; 

Those  venerable  ancient  song-enditers 

Soared  many  a  pitch  above  our  modern  writers. 

They  caterwauled  in  no  romantic  ditty, 

Sighing  for  Philis's  or  Cloe's  pity  ; 

Justly  they  drew  the  Fair,  and  spoke  her  plain, 

And  sung  her  by  her  Christian  name — 'twas  Jane. 

Our  numbers  may  be  more  refined  than  those, 

But  what  we've  gained  in  verse,  we've  lost  in  prose ; 

Their  words  no  shuffling  double-meaning  knew, 

Their  speech  was  homely,  but  their  hearts  were  true. 


xii  THE    REVIVAL   OF   BALLAD    POETRY 

In  such  an  age  immortal  Shakespear  wrote. 
By  no  quaint  rules  nor  hampering  critics  taught, 
With  rough  majestic  force  they  moved  the  heart, 
And  strength  and  nature  made  amends  for  art. 
Our  humble  author  does  his  steps  pursue ; 
He  owns  he  had  the  mighty  bard  in  view ; 
And  in  these  scenes  has  made  it  more  his  care 
To  rouse  the  passions  than  to  charm  the  ear. 

But  this  advocacy,  too,  of  a  better  taste  was  doomed  to  fail 
Eowe,  as  Addison,  spoke  in  vain.     The  literary  dominion  of 
France  was  growing  more  and   more   supreme.      Protests  in 
behalf  of  our  old  masters  were  urged  fruitlessly.     The  charms 
of  our  ballad  poetry  were  disregarded,  were  despised. 

There  were,  however,  others  besides  Addison  and  Kowe  who 
had  some  slight  sense  of  those  charms,  as  for  instance  those 
whom  we  have  named — Parnell,  Tickell,  Prior.  Parnell's  ac 
quaintance  with  our  older  literature  is  shown  in  his  "  Fairy  Tale 
in  the  Ancient  English  Style."  It  is  but  a  feeble  piece,  written 
in  a  favourite  Romance  metre — the  metre  of  Chaucer's  "  Tale  of 
Sir  Topas  " — and  decorated  with  occasional  bits  of  bad  grammar 
to  give  it  an  antique  look.  Tickell's  friendship  with  Addison 
could  not  but  have  conduced  to  some  familiarity  on  his  part 
with  the  old  ballads.  He  seems  to  have  been  inspired  by  them 
in  no  ordinary  degree.  Apropos  of  his  "  Lucy  and  Colin,"  Grold- 
smith  remarks :  "  Through  all  Tickell's  works  there  is  a  strain 
of  ballad-thinking,  if  I  may  so  express  it ;  and  in  this  professed 
ballad  he  seems  to  have  surpassed  himself.  It  is  perhaps  the 
best  in  our  language  in  this  way."  The  writer  of  it  has  evidently 
drunk  from  the  old  wells.  The  story  is  simple.  It  is  told  in  a 
queer  style — a  sort  of  strange  compromise  between  the  sim 
plicity  of  the  old  ballad  language  and  the  superfine  verbiage 
that  was  rising  into  esteem  in  Tickell's  own  day.  Lucy,  the 
reader  may  remember,  is  deserted  by  her  lover  for  a  richer 
bride.  She  cannot  survive  this  cruelty.  She  says,  [to  quote 
well-known  lines, 


IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY.  Xlll 

I  hear  a  voice  you  cannot  hear, 

Which  says  I  must  not  stay. 
I  see  a  hand  you  cannot  see, 

Which  beckons  me  away. 

She  is  buried  on  the  day  of  her  false  lover's  marriage.  The 
funeral  cortege  encounters  the  hymeneal.  The  bridegroom's 
old  passion,  too  late,  revives. 

Confusion,  shame,  remorse,  despair 

At  once  his  bosom  swell ; 
The  damps  of  death  bedew  his  brow ; 

He  shook,  he  groaned,  he  fell. 

There  is  not  the  true  note  here,  but  there  is  a  distant  echo  of 
it.  In  the  handsome  folio  volume  of  poems  published  by 
Matthew  Prior  in  1718  was  printed  the  "  Not-Browne  Maide," 
not  for  its  own  sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  a  piece  called  "  Henry 
and  Emma,"  an  extremely  loose  paraphrase  of  it,  that  the 
reader  might  see  how  magic  was  Mr.  Prior's  touch,  who  could 
transmute  so  rude  an  effort  into  a  work  so  finely  polished. 
However,  Prior  deserves  some  credit  for  having  brought  the 
old  poem  forward  at  all.  His  "  Henry  and  Emma  "  won  great 
applause.  What  a  strange,  instructive,  significant  fact,  that 
when  it  and  its  original  were  placed  before  them,  men  should 
deliberately  choose  it !  A  morbid  taste  was  prevailing  with  a 
vengeance.  No  plea  that  the  language  was  obscure  can  be 
advanced  in  this  case,  as  for  Dryden's  and  Pope's  versions  of 
the  Canterbury  Tales.  There  is  no  obscurity  in  these  words  : 

0  Lorde,  what  is 
This  worldis  blisse, 

That  chaungeth  as  the  mono  ! 

The  somers  day 

In  lusty  may 

Is  derked  before  the  none. 

1  hear  you  say 
Farewel !     Nay,  nay, 
We  departe  not  soo  sone ; 
Why  say  ye  so  ? 
Wheder  wyle  ye  goo  ? 


xiv  THE    REVIVAL   OF   BALLAD    POETRY 

Alas  !  what  have  ye  done  ? 

Alle  my  welfare 

To  sorow  and  care 

Shulde  chaunge  yf  ye  were  gon  ; 

For  in  my  mynde 

Of  all  mankynde 

I  loue  but  you  alone. 

But  Prior's  age  did  not  care  for  their  simple  beauty.  It  could 
not  value  that  art  quce  celat  artem.  It  could  not  enjoy  wild 
flowers.  To  the  above  delightful  speech  it  preferred  the  fol 
lowing  : 

What  is  our  bliss,  that  changeth  with  the  moon, 

And  day  of  life,  that  darkens  ere  'tis  noon  ? 

What  is  true  passion,  if  unblest  it  dies? 

And  where  is  Emma's  joy,  if  Henry  flies  ? 

If  love,  alas  !  be  pain,  the  pain  I  bear 

No  thought  can  figure,  and  no  tongue  declare. 

Ne'er  faithful  woman  felt,  nor  false  one  feign'd 

The  flames  which  long  have  in  my  bosom  reign'd ; 

The  god  of  love  himself  inhabits  there, 

With  all  his  rage,  and  dread,  and  grief,  and  care, 

His  complement  of  stores  and  total  war. 

0  !  cease  then  coldly  to  suspect  my  love, 

And  let  my  deed  at  least  my  faith  approve. 

Alas  !  no  youth  shall  my  endearments  share, 

Nor  day  nor  night  shall  interrupt  my  care ; 

No  future  story  shall  with  truth  upbraid 

The  cold  indifference  of  the  nut-brown  maid; 

Nor  to  hard  banishment  shall  Henry  run, 

While  careless  Emma  sleeps  on  beds  of  down. 

View  me  resolved,. where'er  thou  lead'st,  to  go, 

Friend  to  thy  pain,  and  partner  of  thy  woe  ; 

For  I  attest  fair  Venus  and  her  son, 

That  I,  of  all  mankind,  will  love  but  thee  alone. 

Early  in  the  reign  of  George  I.,  then,  the  old  ballads  had 
grown  insipid.  Men  had  no  longer  eyes  to  see  their  wild 
graces.  An  age  of  rules  was  shocked  by  their  fine  irregularity. 
A  moralising  and  sentimentalising  age  was  horrified  at  their 
plain-spokenness  and  objectivity.  A  didactic  age  could  conceive 
no  interest  in  such  spontaneous  songs.  It  had  narrow  ideas  of 
what  is  instructive,  and  it  wanted  instructing.  It  did  not  under- 


IN  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  XV 

stand  the  singing  as  the  linnet  sings.  It  wanted  its  theories 
illustrated,  discussed,  enforced.  In  a  word,  it  confounded  poetry 
and  morality.  It  did  not  cultivate,  and  it  lost  the  faculty  of 
pure  enjoyment.  No  wonder  then,  if,  finding  no  response  to 
its  ideas  in  the  old  ballads,  it  turned  away  from  them,  and  would 
not  answer  when  they  called,  would  not  dance  when  they  piped. 
But  even  at  this  time,  when  they  were  rapidly  nearing  the 
nadir  of  their  popularity,  the  ballads  found  a  friend.  In  1723 
appeared  a  volume  of  collected  ballads,  followed  three  years  after 
wards  by  a  second,  in  1727  by  a  third.  These  three  volumes 
formed  that  first  collection  of  English  ballads  (there  is  only  one 
Scotch  l  ballad  among  them)  to  which  we  have  above  adverted. 
Denmark  had  made  collections  of  its  ballads  in  1591  and  in 
1695;  Spain  in  1510,  1555,  1566,  and  1615.  England— save 
the  earlier  Garlands — first  did  so  in  1723.  Scotland,  without, 
so  far  as  we  know,  any  knowledge  of  what  had  been  done  in 
England,  in  the  following  year,  when  Allan  Kamsay,  a  great 
student  of  "  the  Bruce,"  "  the  Wallis,"  and  Lyndsay's  works, 

1  Songs  and  ballads  of  rustic  and  dainty  new  Scotch  dialogue  between  a 
of  humble  life  were  called  "  Scotch  "  yong  man  and  his  mistresse,"  subscribed 
from  about  the  middle  of  the  17th  Martin  Parker,  Pop.  Music,  p.  452.) 
century,  and  without  any  intention  of  After  him  came  Tom  D'Urfey,  and  many 
imputing  to  them  a  Scottish  origin,  or  more.  The  use  extended  till,  at  length, 
that  they  were  imitations.  The  same  even  ballads  relating  to  the  northern 
had  before  been  called  "Northern."  counties  of  England,  and  so,  in  every 
Mr.  Payne  Collier  repeatedly  reminds  sense  "  northern,"  were  reprinted  as 
the  readers  of  the  Registers  of  the  Scotch.  (See,  for  instance,  "  Nanny 
Stationers'  Company  that  this  word  0,"  Pop.  Music,  p.  610,  note  a.}  This 
"northern"  means  "rustic."  (See  Notes  conventional  meaning  of  "Scotch"  seems 
and  Qitcri/'s,  Dec.  28,  1861,  p.  514 ;  Feb.  to  have  been  accepted  in  Scotland  as 
8,  1862,  p.  106;  Feb.  21,  1863,  p.  145.)  well  as  in  England,  for  in  no  other 
The  substitution  of  "Scotch"  seems  to  sense  could  Allan  Ramsay  claim,  among 
have  commenced  during  the  civil  war,  and  others,  Gay's  ballad, "  Black-ey'd  Susan," 
perhaps  only  after  Charles  II.  had  been  in  the  very  first  part  of  "  A  miscellany 
crowned  King  of  Scots,  when  "  Scotch"  of  Scots  Sangs,"  or  W.  Thomson  appro- 
at  length  became  a  popular,  and  even  a  priate  songs  by  Ambrose  Phillips  and 
party  word  with  the  Cavaliers.  The  other  well-known  Englishmen,  in  his 
first  writer  in  whom  I  have  noted  the  Orpheus  Caledonius.  This  remark  is 
change  is  Martin  Parker,  author  of  the  necessary  because  Percy  has,  through- 
famous  Cavalier  ballad  "  When  the  King  out,  taken  the  words  "northern"  and 
shall  enjoy  his  own  again."  (See,  for  "  Scotch"  only  in  their  literal  local  sen.se. 
instance,  "A  pair  of  turtle  doves,  or  a  — W.  C. 


Xvi  THE  REVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY 

having  "  observed  that  Readers  of  the  best  and  most  exquisite 
Discernment  frequently  complain  of  our  modern  Writings  as 
filled  with  affected  Delicacies  and  studied  Refinements,  which 
they  would  gladly  exchange  for  that  natural  strength  of  thought 
and  simplicity  of  stile  our  Forefathers  practised,"  published  his 
"  Ever-Green,  being  a  collection  -of  Scots  Poems  wrote  by  the 
Ingenious  before  1600,"  and  in  the  same  year  "The  Tea-Table 
Miscellany,  or  a  Collection  of  Scots  Sangs,  in  three  volumes." 
All  three  collections  seem  to  have  enjoyed  a  fair  success.  Who 
was  the  author  of  the  English  one  is  not  known.1  It  is  called 
"  A  collection  of  Old  Ballads  corrected  from  the  best  and  most 
ancient  copies  extant,  with  Introductions,  Historical,  Critical, 
or  Humorous,  illustrated  with  copper  plates."  The  editor  adopts 
an  apologetic  motto  for  his  book — some  of  the  above- quoted 
words  of  Rowe.  He  writes,  too,  in  an  apologetic  vein.  "  There 
are  many,"  he  says, "  who  perhaps  will  think  it  ridiculous  enough 
to  enter  seriously  into  a  Dissertation  upon  Ballads."  He  is  evi 
dently  rather  afraid  of  being  thought  a  frivolous  creature  by  his 
lofty-minded  contemporaries.  He  is  a  little  uneasy  in  intro 
ducing  his  protegees  to  the  polished  public.  But  he  does  his 
duty  by  them  bravely,  only  indulging  himself  now  and  then  in  a 
little  superior  laugh  at  their  expense.  He  gives  what  account 
he  can  of  the  theme  of  each  one,  and  shows  always  a  thorough 
interest  in  his  work.  But  the  time  was  not  yet  ripe  for  his 
labours.  The  popularity  that  attended  the  first  appearance  of 
his  collection  soon  ceased.  The  predominant  character  of  the 
age  was  not  changed.  The  old  voices  could  not  yet  secure  a 
hearing.  The  age  clung  to  its  idols.  Its  Pharisaic  spirit  was 
too  strong  to  be  restrained.  It  could  not  yet  believe  that  out 
of  the  mouth  of  the  common  people  there  was  ordained  strength. 
After  the  middle  of  the  century  some  promise  was  shown  of 

1  Dr.  Farmer  ascribes  it  to  Ambrose  Phillips.     See  Lowndes,  under  "Ballads.'' 
— W.  C. 


IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY.  XV11 

a  better  era.  In  Capell's  "Prolusions,  or  Select  Pieces  of 
Antient  Poetry,  compil'd  with  great  care  from  their  several 
Originals,  and  offer'd  to  the  Publick  as  Specimens  of  the 
Integrity  that  should  be  found  in  the  Editions  of  Worthy 
Authors,"  published  in  1760,  appeared  the  "Not-browne 
Mayde,"  no  longer  accompanied  by  a  modernised  version.  This 
book  gives  hints  of  the  reaction  that  was  coming  against  the  old 
manipulating  method.  "  Fidelity  to  the  best  Texts,"  is  its 
watchword.  In  the  same  year  (1760)  appeared  Macpherson's 
Ossian,  and  produced  an  immense  sensation.  Bishop  Percy, 
with  the  good  wishes  and  assistance  of  many  then  distinguished 
men — of  Shenstone,  Garrick,  Joseph  Warton,  Farmer — was 
supplementing  the  treasures  of  his  wonderful  Folio  MS.  from 
other  quarters,  and  preparing  the  materials  of  his  Rellques  of 
Ancient  English  Poetry.  About  the  same  time  (1764)  appeared 
Evans's  "  Specimens  of  the  Poetry  of  the  Antient  Welsh  Bards." 
Mallet's  work  on  "the  remains  of  the  Mythology  and  Poetry 
of  the  Celtes,  particularly  of  Scandinavia,"  had  already  been 
published  some  years.1  About  the  same  time  Gray  was 
writing  his  Welsh  and  Scandinavian  pieces.2  At  the  same  time 
Chatterton  was  striving  to  satisfy  the  new  taste  that  was 
spreading  with  forgeries  of  old  poems.3  The  first  decade,  then, 
of  George  III.'s  reign  is  most  memorable  in  the  history  of  the 

1  Mallet  (P.-H.)  Introduction  a  This-  Glasgow;  and  at  the  same  timeDodsley 
toire  do  Dannemark,  ou  Ton  traite  do  was  also  printing  them  in  London.     In 
la  religion,  des  mceurs  et  usages  des  an-  both  these  editions,  the  "  Long  Story" 
cieris  danois  etc.     Copenkague,  1755-56.  was  omitted.      Some  pieces  of  Welch 
Les   Monumens    de    la    Mythologie    et  and   Norwegian   poetry,   written   in    a 
de  la  Poesie  des  Celtes  (trad,  des  Edda)  bold  and  original  manner,  were  inserted 
ouvrage  qui  fait  partie  de  cette  intro-  in  its  place.     Mitford's  Life  of  Gray, 
duction,  ont  aussi  paru  separement  avec  Works,  i.  xlix.-L— F. 

un  titre  particulier,  en  1756.     Brunei.          *  Published  in  1777.     He  died  Aug. 

Percy's  translation   was   published    in  25th,  1770.    His  first  article,  purporting 

1770. — F.  to  be  the  transcript  of  an  ancient  MS. 

2  In  1767  he  [Gray]  had  intended  a  entitled   "A  Description  of  the  Fryers' 
second    tour    to    Scotland.        At  Dr.  first  passage    over    the   Old    Bridge," 
Beattie's  desire,  a  new  edition   of  his  appeared  in  Farley's  Journal,  Bristol, 
poems   was    published    by    Foulis    at  Oct.  1768.     Penny  Cycl.—f. 

VOL.    II.  b 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY 

revival  of  our  ballad  poetry.  Then  commenced  an  appreciation 
of  it  which  has  grown  stronger  and  stronger  with  the  lapse  of 
years.  Then  it  found  itself  so  well  supported  that  it  was  able 
to  hold  up  its  head  in  spite  of  peremptory  contemptuous 
criticism.  It  feared  no  more  the  frowns  of  the  great.  Its 
beauty  was  no  longer  to  be  hid — its  light  no  longer  veiled  away 
from  men's  eyes.  "  Even  from  the  tomb  the  voice  of  nature 
cried."  In  the  midst  of  conventionalisms  and  artificialities, 
Simplicity  and  Truth  asserted  themselves.  The  age  was  growing 
sick  and  weary  of  its  old  darlings ;  growing  sensible  that  there 
was  no  salvation  in  them,  no  infallibility,  no  supreme  delight  in 

their  worship : 

Naturam  expellas  furca,  tamen  usque  recurret. 

Cinderella  had  sat  by  the  kitchen  fire  for  many  a  day.  For 
many  a  day  the  elder  sisters,  tricked  out  in  all  the  modish 
finery  of  the  time,  every  attitude  studied,  every  look  elaborated 
every  movement  affected,  had  possessed  the  drawing-room  in  all 
their  fashionable  state.  Cinderella  down  in  the  kitchen  had 
heard  the  rustle  of  their  fine  silks  and  satins,  and  the  sound  of 
their  polite  conversation.  She  had  been  perplexed  by  their 
polished  verbiage,  and  felt  her  own  awkwardness  and  rusticity. 
She  had  never  dared  to  think  herself  beautiful.  No  admiring 
eyes  ever  came  near  her  in  which  she  might  mirror  herself. 
She  had  never  dared  to  think  her  voice  sweet.  No  rapt  ears 
ever  drank  in  fondly  its  accents.  She  felt  herself  a  plain- 
faced,  dull-souled,  uninteresting  person,  not  worthy  to  receive 
any  attention  from  any  one  of  the  fine  gentlemen  who  adored 
her  sisters,  or  to  enter  their  well-mannered  society.  But  her 
lowliness  was  to  be  regarded.  The  songs  she  had  sung  in  the 
kitchen  to  the  servants — her  humble,  unpretentious  songs — 
they  were  to  find  greater  favour  than  ever  did  those  of  her 
much-complimented  sisters.  She  too  was  to  be  the  belle  of 
balls.  It  was  about  the  year  1760  when  the  possibility  of  so 


IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY.  XIX 

great  a  change  in  her  condition  became  first  conceivable.  She 
met  with  many  enemies,  who  clamoured  that  the  kitchen  was 
her  proper  place,  and  vehemently  opposed  her  admission  into 
any  higher  room.  The  Prince  was  long  in  finding  her  out. 
The  sisters  put  many  an  obstacle  between  him  and  her.  They 
could  not  understand  the  failure  of  their  own  attractions. 
They  could  not  appreciate  the  excellence  of  hers.  But  at  last 
the  Prince  found  her,  and  took  her  in  all  her  simple  sweetness 
to  himself.  At  last,  to  lay  metaphors  aside,  England  ac 
knowledged  the  power  and  beauty  of  the  ballads  that  had 
suffered  for  so  long  a  time  such  grievous  neglect. 

At  the  accession  of  George  III.,  William  Whitehead  was  in 
the  third  year  of  his  adornment  of  the  Poet  Laureateship. 
"  The  Pleasures  of  Imagination,"  "The  Schoolmistress,"  "  The 
Complaint,  or  Night  Thoughts  on  Life,  Death,  and  Immor 
tality" — works  which  had  been  given  to  the  world  some 
sixteen  or  eighteen  years  before — were  at  the  zenith  of  their 
fame.  The  general  character  of  our  literature  at  this  time 
was  wholly  didactic.  We  cannot  wonder,  then,  if  the  appear 
ance  of  a  poetry  that  was  weighted  with  no  overbearing  moral, 
or  other  purpose,  produced  a  tremendous  effect.  We  may  be 
prepared  to  understand  the  prodigious  excitement  caused  by  the 
publication  in  1760  of  "  The  Works  of  Ossian  the  Son  of  Fingal, 
translated  from  the  Gaelic  language  by  James  Macpherson." 
With  all  their  magniloquence,  they  did  not  sermonise ;  they 
expressed  some  genuine  feeling.  Amidst  all  their  affected  cries 
there  was  a  true  voice  audible.  Three  years  subsequently, 
Bishop  Percy,  moved  by  Ossian 's  popularity,  published  a  transla 
tion  from  the  Icelandic  language  of  five  pieces  of  Runic  poetry. 

In  the  following  year,  1764,  appeared  "Some  Specimens  of 
the  Poetry  of  the  Ancient  Welsh  Bards  translated  into  English, 
with  Explanatory  Notes  on  the  Historical  Passages,  and  a  short 
Account  of  Men  and  Places  mentioned  by  the  Bards,  in  order 


XX  THE  REVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY 

to  give  the  Curious  some  Idea  of  the  Taste  and  Sentiments  of 
our  Ancesters  and  their  Manner  of  Writing,  by  the  Eev.  Mr. 
Evan  Evans,  curate  of  Grlanvair  Talyhaern  in  Denbighshire" 
— a  work  with  which  Gray  was  familiar.  Shortly  afterwards 
appeared  Gray's  own  translations,  made  from  translations, 
of  Norse  and  Welsh  pieces  :  "  The  Fatal  Sisters,"  "  The 
Descent  of  Odin,"  "  The  Triumphs  of  Owen,"  and  "  The  Death 
of  Hoel."  About  the  time,  then,  of  the  appearance  of  the 
Reliques  in  1765,  there  was  dispersed  over  the  country  some 
slight  knowledge  of  the  old  Celtic  and  of  Scandinavian  poetry. 
And  now  the  age  was  ripe  for  the  reception  of  such  a  collec 
tion  of  old  ballads  as  had  been  published  some  forty  years,  but 
had  then,  after  a  short-lived  circulation,  fallen  into  neglect. 
Thomas  Percy,  the  son  of  a  grocer  at  Bridgenorth,  Shropshire, 
a  graduate  of  Oxford,  vicar  of  Easton  Maudit,  Northampton 
shire,  was  by  nature  something  of  an  antiquarian.  When  "  very 
young,"  he  became  possessed  of  a  folio  MS.  of  old  ballads  and 
romances.  i(  This  very  curious  old  MS."  he  says  in  a  memo 
randum  made  in  the  old  folio  itself,  "  in  its  present  mutilated 
state,  but  unbound  and  sadly  torn,  I  rescued  from  destruction, 
and  begged  at  the  hands  of  my  worthy  friend  Humphrey  Pitt,  Esq. 
then  living  at  Shiffnal  in  Shropshire,  afterwards  of  Prior  Lee 
near  that  town ;  who  died  very  lately  at  Bath ;  viz.  in  Summer 
1769.  I  saw  it  lying  dirty  on  the  floor  under  a  Bureau  in  ye 
Parlour :  being  used  by  the  maids  to  light  the  fire."  "  When  I 
first  got  possession  of  this  MS."  he  says  in  another  entry  in  the 
same  place,  "  I  was  very  young,  and  being  in  no  degree  an 
Antiquary,  I  had  not  then  learnt  to  reverence  it ;  which  must 
be  my  excuse  for  the  scribble  which  I  then  spread  over  some 
parts  of  its  margin;  and  in  one  or  two  instances,  for  even 
taking  out  the  leaves,  to  save  the  trouble  of  transcribing.  I 
have  since  been  more  careful."  Besides  this  famous  folio,  he 
possessed  also  a  quarto  MS.  volume  of  similar  pieces,  supposed 


IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY.  XXI 

to  be  the  same  as  one  still  in  the  hands  of  his  family,  and  con 
taining  only  copies  of  printed  poems.  The  folio  has  remained 
in  the  hands  of  the  Bishop's  family  in  the  greatest  privacy 
hitherto ;  Jamieson  and  Sir  F.  Madden  being  (I  believe)  the 
only  editors  who  have  printed  from  it,  though  Dibdin  was 
allowed  to  catalogue  part  of  it.  It  is  now  at  last,  as  our  readers 
know,  being  printed  just  as  it  is.  These  volumes  had  in  Percy 
a  (for  that  time)  highly  appreciative  possessor.  He  determined 
to  introduce  to  the  public  some  specimens  of  their  contents. 
This  proposal  was  promoted  by  the  sympathy  of  many  then  dis 
tinguished  men:  of  Shenstone,  Bird,  Grainger,  Steevens,  Farmer, 
and  by  others  of  still  greater  and  more  enduring  note — Garrick 
and  Goldsmith.  At  last,  in  1765  appeared  Reliques  of  Ancient 
English  Poetry,  consisting  of  Old  Heroic  Ballads,  Songs,  and 
other  pieces  of  our  earlier  poets  (chiefly  of  the  Lyric  kind) 
together  with  sortie  few  of  later  date.  The  editor,  even  as  the 
editor  of  the  collection  of  1723,  of  whom  we  have  spoken,  JIMS, 
manifestly,  some  misgivings  about  the  character  of  his  protegees. 
He  is  not  quite  sure  how  they  will  be  received  by  his  polite 
contemporaries.  He  speaks  of  them,  in  his  Dedication  of  his 
volumes  to  the  Countess  of  Northumberland  (he  was  extremely 
ambitious  to  connect  himself  with  the  great  Percies  of  the 
North),  as  "the  rude  songs  of  ancient  minstrels,"  "the  barbarous 
productions  of  unpolished  ages,"  and  is  troubled  for  fear  lest  he 
should  be  guilty  of  some  impropriety  in  hoping  that  they  "  can 
obtain  the  approbation  or  the  notice  of  her,  who  adorns  courts 
by  her  presence,  and  diffuses  elegance  by  her  example.  But 
this  impropriety,  it  is  presumed,  will  disappear  when  it  is 
declared  that  these  poems  are  presented  to  your  Ladyship,  not  as 
labours  of  art  but  as  effusions  of  nature,  shewing  the  first  efforts 
of  ancient  genius,  and  exhibiting  the  customs  and  opinions  of 
remote  ages."  In  his  Preface  he  says  that  "as  most  of"  the  con 
tents  of  his  folio  MS.  "  are  of  great  simplicity,  and  seem  to  have 


XX11  THE  REVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY 

been  merely  written  for  the  people,  the  possessor  was  long  in 
doubt,  whether  in  the  present  state  of  improved  literature  they 
could  be  deemed  worthy  the  attention  of  the  public.  At  length 
the  importunity  of  his  friends  prevailed."  "  In  a  polished  age, 
like  the  present,  he  adds,  "  I  am  sensible  that  many  of  these 
reliques  of  antiquity  will  require  great  allowances  to  be  made 
for  them.  Yet  have  they,  for  the  most  part,  a  pleasing  simpli 
city,  and  many  artless  graces,  which  in  the  opinion  of  no  mean 
critics  [a  foot-note  cites  Addison,  Dryden,  Lord  Dorset  &c.,  and 
Selden]  have  been  thought  to  compensate  for  the  want  of  higher 
beauties,  and  if  they  do  not  dazzle  the  imagination  [Did  "  The 
School-mistress,"  "The  Sugar-cane,"  dazzle  the  imagination?] 
are  frequently  found  to  interest  the  heart."  Still  more  striking 
are  the  following  words  :  "  To  atone  for  the  rudeness  of  the  more 
obsolete  poems,  each  volume  concludes  with  a  few  modern 
attempts  in  the  same  kind  of  writing."  And  then  he  buttresses 
his  volumes  with  eminent  names — Shenstone,  Thomas  Warton, 
Grarrick,  Johnson  (we  shall  see  presently  how  far  Johnson  was 
likely  to  smile  on  his  undertaking),  which  "  names  of  so  many 
men  of  learning  and  character,  the  editor  hopes  will  serve  as  an 
amulet,  to  guard  him  from  every  unfavourable  censure  for 
having  bestowed  any  attention  on  a  parcel  of  Old  Ballads.  It 
was  at  the  request  of  many  of  these  gentlemen,  and  of  others 
eminent  for  their  genius  and  taste,  that  this  little  work  was 
undertaken.  To  prepare  it  for  the  press  has  been  the  amuse 
ment  of  now  and  then  *a  vacant  hour  amid  the  leisure  and 
retirement  of  rural  life,  and  hath  only  served  as  a  relaxation 
from  graver  studies.  It  hath  been  taken  up  and  thrown  aside 
for  many  months  during  an  interval  of  four  or  five  years,"  With 
such  apologies  and  antidotes  did  the  Reliques  make  their  debut  I 
How  strange — what  a  wonderful  tale  of  altered  taste  it  tells — 
that  in  order  to  make  "  Chevy  Chase,"  "  Edom  o'  Gordon," 
"  Little  Musgrave  and  Lady  Barnard,"  endurable,  to  reconcile 


IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  XX111 

the  reader  to  their  rudeness,  such  charming  chaperones  should  be 
assigned  them  as  "  Bryan  and  Pereene,  a  West  Indian  ballad  by 
Dr.  Grainger,"  "  Jemmy  Dawson,  by  Mr.  Shenstone"  !  "Bryan 
and  Pereene,"  "  founded  on  a  real  fact,"  narrates  how  Pereene, 
"  the  pride  of  Indian  dames,"  went  down  to  the  sea-shore  to  meet 
her  lover,  who,  after  an  absence  in  England  of  one  long  long  year 
one  month  and  day,  was  returning  to  St.  Christopher's  and  his 
mistress. 

Soon  as  his  well-known  ship  she  spied 

She  cast  her  weeds  away, 
And  to  the  palmy  shore  she  hied 

All  in  her  best  array. 

In  sea-green  silk,  so  neatly  clad 
She  there  impatient  stood  ; 

Bryan,  seeing  her  in  the  said  sea-green  silk,  impatient  also, 
leapt  overboard  in  the  hope  of  reaching  her  sooner. 

The  crew  with  wonder  saw  the  lad 
Repell  the  foaming  flood. 

Her  hands  a  handkerchief  display'd, 

Which  he  at  parting  gave  ; 
Well-pleas'd  the  token  he  survey'd, 

And  manlier  beat  the  wave. 

Her  fair  companions  one  and  all 

Rejoicing  crowd  the  strand  ; 
For  now  her  lover  swam  in  call, 

And  almost  touch'd  the  land. 

Then  through  the  white  surf  did  she  haste, 

To  clasp  her  lovely  swain  ; 
When  ah  !  a  shark  bit  through  his  waist, 

His  heart's  blood  dy'd  the  main. 

He  shriek'd !  his  half  sprang  from  the  wave, 

Streaming  with  purple  gore, 
And  soon  it  found  a  living  grave, 

And  ah !  was  seen  no  more. 


THE  REVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY 

Now  haste,  now  haste,  ye  maids,  I  pray, 

Fetch  water  from  the  spring; 
She  falls,  she  swoons,  she  dies  away, 

And  soon  her  knell  they  ring. 

And  so  the  doleful  ditty  ends  with  an  injunction  to  the  "fair," 
to  strew  her  tomb  with  fresh  flowerets  every  May  morning,  to 
the  end  that  they  and  their  lovers  rnay  not  come  to  similar 
distress."  Jemmy  Dawson  was  one  of  the  Manchester  rebels 
who  took  part  in  the  '45,  and  was  hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered 
on  Kennington  Common  in  1746. 

Their  colours  and  their  sash  he  wore, 

And  in  the  fatal  dress  was  found ; 
And  now  he  must  that  death  endure, 

Which  gives  the  brave  the  keenest  wound. 

How  pale  was  then  his  true  love's  cheek, 
When  Jemmy's  sentence  reach'd  her  ear  ; 

For  never  yet  did  Alpine  snows, 
So  pale,  nor  yet  so  chill  appear. 

With  faltering  voice  she  weeping  said, 

Oh !  Dawson,  monarch  of  my  heart, 
Think  not  thy  death  shall  end  our  loves, 

For  thou  and  I  will  never  part. 

Poor  Kitty  inflexibly  witnesses  his  execution. 

The  dismal  scene  was  o'er  and  past, 

The  lover's  mournful  hearse  retir'd  ; 
The  maid  drew  back  her  languid  head, 

And  sighing  forth  his  name  expir'd. 

Such  were  the  pieces  whose  elegance  was  to  make  atonement 
to  the  readers  of  a  century  ago,  for  the  barbarousness  of  the 
other  components  of  the  Reliques. 

This  barbarousness  was  further  mitigated  by  an  application 
of  a  polishing  process  to  the  ballads  themselves.  Percy  per 
formed  the  offices  of  a  sort  of  tireman  for  them.  He  dressed 
and  adorned  them  to  go  into  polite  society.  To  how  great  an 
extent  he  laboured  in  their  service,  is  now  at  last  manifested  by 
the  publication  of  the  Folio.  The  old  MS.  contained  many 


IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.  XXV 

pieces  which,  it  would  seem,  were  considered  hopeless.  No 
amount  of  manipulation  could  ever  make  them  presentable. 
It  contained  many  pieces  and  many  fragments — thanks  to  the 
anxiety  of  Mr.  Humphrey  Pitt's  servants  to  light  his  fires  !— 
which  the  art  of  the  editorial  refiner  of  the  eighteenth  century 
deemed  capable  of  adaptation  ;  and  Percy  adapted  them.  The 
old  ballads  could  reckon  on  no  genuine  sympathy.  They  were, 
so  to  speak,  the  songs  of  Zion  in  a  strange  land. 

Percy,  as  the  extracts  we  have  quoted  from  his  Dedication 
and  Preface  have  shown,  was  not  free  from  the  prejudices  of  his 
time.  He  was  but  slightly  in  advance  of  them  ;  but  he  was  in 
advance  of  them.  He  did  recognise  the  power  and  beauty  of 
the  old  poetry,  more  deeply,  perhaps,  than  he  ever  dared 
confess.  And,  though  unconscious  of  the  greatness  of  the  work 
he  was  doing,  did  for  us — for  Europe — an  unutterable  service. 
He  was,  to  the  end,  curiously  unconscious  of  it.  He  had  given 
a  deadly  blow  to  a  terrible  giant,  and  freed  many  captives  from 
his  thraldom,  without  knowing.  Men  are  often  reminded  to  be 
delicately  careful  in  their  actions,  because  they  know  not  what 
harm  they  may  do.  They  might  sometimes  be  encouraged 
by  the  thought  that  they  know  not  what  good  they  do. 
Certainly  Percy  performed  for  English  literature  a  far  higher 
service  than  he  ever  dreamt  of.  He  always  regarded  the 
Reliques  as  something  rather  frivolous.  "  I  read  '  Edwin  and 
Angelina'  to  Mr.  Percy  some  years  ago,"  writes  Goldsmith,  in 
1767,  to  the  printer  of  the  St.  James'  Chronicle,  who  had 
assigned  Goldsmith's  ballad  to  Percy,  "and  he  (as  we  both 
considered  these  things  as  trifles  at  best)  told  me,  with  his  usual 
goodhumour,  the  next  time  I  saw  him,  that  he  had  taken  my 
plan  to  form  the  fragments  of  Shakespeare  into  a  ballad  of  his 
own.  He  then  read  me  his  little  cento,  if  I  may  so  call 
it,  and  I  highly  approved  of  it."  "  I  am  so  little  interested 
about  the  amusements  of  my  youth,"  writes  Percy  to  his 


XXVI  THE  REVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY 

publisher  in  1794,  "  that,  had  it  not  been  for  the  benefit  of  my 
nephew,  I  could  contentedly  have  let  the  Reliques  of  Ancient 
Poetry  remain  unpublished."  The  great  effect  the  memorable 
work  produced  came  "  not  with  observation." 

With  all  the  consideration  Percy  showed  for  the  prevailing 
taste,  he  did  not  succeed  in  winning  over  to  his  support  certain 
great  leaders  of  it.  He  was  extremely  solicitous  to  secure 
the  approval  of  the  leader  of  the  leaders  of  it — of  that  supreme 
potentate,  Dr.  Johnson.  In  his  Preface  he  twice  mentions  him : 
first,  as  having  urged  him  to  publish  a  selection  from  the  Folio 
("  He  could  refuse  nothing,"  he  says,  "  to  such  judges  as  the 
author  of  the  Rambler,  and  the  late  Mr.  Shenstone,") ;  and 
secondly,  as  having  lightened  his  editorial  task  with  his  assist 
ance  ("  To  the  friendship  of  Mr.  Johnson,"  he  writes,  "'  he  owes 
many  valuable  hints  for  the  conduct  of  his  work  ").  But,  for  all 
these  complimentary  mentions,  Johnson  seems  to  have  liked 
neither  the  work  nor  its  author,  as  may  be  seen  in  Boswell 
again  and  again  ;  thus  :  "  The  conversation  having  turned  on 
modern  imitations  of  ancient  ballads,  and  some  one  having 
praised  their  simplicity,  he  treated  them  with  that  ridicule 
which  he  always  displayed  when  that  subject  was  mentioned." 
The  177th  number  of  the  Rambler  gives  a  satirical  account  of  .a 
Club  of  Antiquaries.  Hirsute,  we  are  told,  had  a  passion  for 
black-letter  books ;  Ferratus  for  coins ;  Chartophylax  for 
gazettes ;  <(  Cantilenus  turned  all  his  thoughts  upon  old  ballads, 
for  he  considered  them  as  the  genuine  records  of  the  natural 
taste.  He  offered  to  show  me  a  copy  of  The  Children  of  the 
Wood,  which  he  firmly  believed  to  be  of  the  first  edition,  and 
by  the  help  of  which  the  text  might  be  freed  from  several 
corruptions,  if  this  age  of  barbarity  had  any  claim  to  such 
favours  from  him."  In  his  Life  of  Addison,  after  a  sarcastic 
reference  to  his  Spectators  on  "  Chevy  Chase,"  and  Wagstaff's 
ridicule  of  them,  he  adds,  in  modification  of  Dennis's  reductio 


IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY.  XXVii 

ad  absurdum  of  Addison's  canon — that  "  Chevy  Chase  "  pleases, 
and  ought  to  please,  because  it  is  natural — "  In  Chevy  Chase 
there  is  not  much  of  either  bombast  or  affectation,  but  there  is 
chill  and  lifeless  imbecility.  The  story  cannot  possibly  be  told 
in  a  manner  that  shall  make  less  impression  on  the  mind." 
With  what  horror  the  ghost  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney  must  have 
been  struck  if  ever  it  was  aware  of  this  crushing  dictum  !  Still 
more  suggestive  are  his  observations  on  another  old  ballad. 
"  The  greatest  of  all  his  amorous  essays,"  he  remarks  in  his 
Life  of  Prior,  "  is  Henry  and  Emma  —  a  dull  and  tedious 
dialogue,  which  excites  neither  esteem  for  the  man  nor  tender 
ness  for  the  woman.  The  example  of  Emma,  who  resolves  to 
follow  an  outlawed  murderer  wherever  fear  and  guilt  shall  drive 
him,  deserves  no  imitation  [would  Johnson  have  said  that  the 
"  Laocoon,"  or  the  "  Venus  de  Medici,"  deserved  an  imitation  ? 
how  could  his  critical  rules  have  been  applied  to  them  ?],  and 
the  experiment  by  which  Henry  tries  the  lady's  constancy  is 
such  as  must  end  either  in  infamy  to  her  or  in  disappointment 
to  himself."  With  these  terrible  sentences  in  our  ear,  let  us 
read  these  stanzas  : 

Though  it  be  songe 

Of  old  &  yonge, 

That  I  shold  be  to  blame, 

Theyrs  be  the  charge 
That  speke  so  large 
In  hastynge  of  my  name  ; 
For  Iwyll  prove 
That  faythfulle  love, 
It  is  devoyd  of  shame  ; 
In  your  dystresse, 
And  heyynesse, 
To  part  with  you  the  same ; 
And  sure  all  tho 
That  do  not  so 
True  lovers  are  they  none. 
For  in  my  mynde 
Of  all  mankynde 
I  love  but  you  alone. 


XXV111          THE  REVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY 

And,  I  thinke  nat  nay 

But  as  ye  say, 
It  is  no  mayden's  lore  ; 
But  love  may  make 
Me  for  your  sake, 
As  I  have  sayd  before, 
To  come  on  foote 
To  hunt,  to  shote 
To  gete  us  mete  in  store  ; 
For  so  that  I 
Your  companey 
May  have,  I  ask  no  more. 
From  which  to  part, 
It  makyth  my  hart 
As  colde  as  ony  stone  ; 
For  in  my  mynde 
Of  all  mankynde 
I  love  but  you  alone. 

Read  these  high  passionate  words,  and  think  of  Johnson's 
criticism.1  He  misses,  evidently,  the  point  of  the  poem — does 
not  see  how  one  noble  idea  permeates  and  vivifies  every  line, 
and  glorifies  the  self-abandonment  confessed. 

Here  may  ye  see 

That  women  be 

In  love,  meke,  kynde,  and  stable ; 

Late  never  man 

Reprove  them  than, 

Or  call  them  variable ; 

But  rather  pray 

God  that  we  may 

To  them  be  comfortable. 

His  criticism  of  the  "  Nut-brown  Maid  "  makes  his  dislike  of  the 
old  ballads  intelligible  enough.  We  can  understand  now  how 
he  came  to  despise  and  abuse  them,  and  parody  their  form  in 
this  wise  : 

1  Cf.  Mr.  Gilpin's  (Saurey-Gilpin,  an  the   same  woman  whom  the  Bake  dis- 

artist,  1733-1807,)remark,o/m^Nichols  cards  in  the  first  print,  by  whom  he  is 

and  Steevens'  Hogarth,  on  the  seventh  rescued  in  the  fourth,  who  is  present  at 

plate   of  the   Hake's   Progress  :    "  The  his  marriage,  who  follows  him  into  jail, 

episode  of  the  fainting  woman   might  and  lastly  to  Bedlam.     The  thought  is 

have  given  way  to  many  circumstances  rather  unnatural,  and  the  moral  certainly 

more  proper  to  the  occasion.     This  is  culpable." 


IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTUKY.  XXIX 

The  tender  infant,  meek  and  mild, 

Fell  down  upon  a  stone ; 
The  nurse  took  up  the  squealing  child, 

But  still  the  child  squeal'd  on. 

Warburton,  Kurd,  and  others  heartily  concurred  in  his  opinion. 
Warburton  thought  that  the  old  ballads  were  utterly  despicable 
by  the  side  of  the  exalted  literature  of  his  own  and  recent 
times.  He  called  them  "specious  funguses  compared  to  the 
oak." 

But  in  the  face  of  this  contumely,  looked  down  on  and  sneered 
at  by  the  learning  and  refinement  of  the  age,  the  old  ballads 
grew  dear  to  the  heart  of  the  nation.  They  stirred  emotions 
that  had  long  lain  dormant.  They  revived  fires  that  had  long 
slumbered.  The  nation  lay  in  prison  like  its  old  Troubadour 
king;  in  its  durance  it  heard  its  minstrel  singing  beneath  the 
window  its  old  songs,  and  its  heart  leapt  in  its  bosom.  It 
recognised  the  well-known,  though  long-neglected,  strains  that 
it  had  heard  and  loved  in  the  days  of  its  youth.  The  old  love 
revived.  The  captive  could  not  at  once  cast  off  its  fetters,  and 
go  forth.  But  a  yearning  for  liberty  awoke  in  it ;  a  wild, 
growing,  passionate  longing  for  liberty,  for  real,  not  artificial 
flowers ;  for  true  feeling,  not  sentimentalism ;  for  the  fresh 
life-giving  breezes  of  the  open  country,  not  the  languid  airs 
of  enclosed  courts. 

As  one  who  long  in  populous  city  pent, 
Where  houses  thick  and  sewers  annoy  the  air, 
Forth  issuing  on  a  summer's  morn,  to  breathe 
Among  the  pleasant  villages  and  farms 
Adjoin'd,  from  each  thing  met  conceives  delight, 
The  smell  of  grain,  or  tedded  grass,  or  kine, 
Or  dairy,  each  rural  sight,  each  rural  sound, 

so  did  the  nation  issue  forth  from  its  confinement,  and  conceive 
truer,  more  comprehensive  joys. 

The  publication  of  the  Reliques,  then,  constitutes  an  epoch  in 
the  history  of  the  great  revival  of  taste,  in  whose  blessings  we 


XXX  THE  REVIVAL  OF  BALLAD  POETRY 

now  participate.  After  1765,  before  the  end  of  the  century, 
numerous  collections  of  old  ballads,  in  Scotland  and  in  England, 
by  Evans,  Pinkerton,  Hurd,  Kitson,  were  made.  The  noble 
reformation,  that  received  so  great  an  impulse  in  1765,  ad 
vanced  thenceforward  steadily.  The  taste  that  was  awakened 
never  slumbered  again.  The  recognition  of  our  old  life  and 
poetry  that  the  EeKques  gave,  was  at  last  gloriously  confirmed 
and  established  by  Walter  Scott.  That  great  minstrel  was 
profoundly  influenced  by  the  Reliques,  both  directly  and  in 
directly,  through  Burger  and  others  who  had  drunk  deep  of  its 
waters. 

"  Among  the  valuable  acquisitions,"  says  Scott  in  his  Autobi 
ography,  writing  of  his  studies  after  his  leaving  Edinburgh  High 
School,  "  I  made  about  this  time,  was  an  acquaintance  with 
Tasso's  ( Jerusalem  Delivered '  through  the  flat  medium  of  Mr. 
Hoole's  translation.  But  above  all  I  then  first  became  acquainted 
with  Bishop  Percy's  Reliques  of  Ancient  Poetry.  As  I  had  been 
from  infancy  devoted  to  legendary  lore  of  this  nature,  and  only 
reluctantly  withdrew  my  attention  from  the  scarcity  of  materials 
and  the  rudeness  of  those  which  I  possessed,  it  may  be  imagined, 
but  cannot  be  described,  with  what  delight  I  saw  pieces  of  the 
same  kind  whcih  had  amused  my  childhood,  and  still  continued 
in  secret  the  Delilahs  of  my  imagination,  considered  as  the  subject 
of  sober  research,  grave  commentary,  and  apt  illustration  by  an 
editor  who  showed  his  practical  genius  was  capable  of  emulating 
the  best  qualities  of  what  his  pious  labour  preserved.  I  re 
member  well  the  spot  where  I  read  these  volumes  for  the  first 
time.  It  was  beneath  a  huge  plantaine  tree,  in  the  ruins  of 
what  had  been  intended  for  an  old-fashioned  arbour  in  the 
garden  I  have  mentioned.  The  summer  day  sped  onwards  so 
fast  that,  notwithstanding  the  sharp  appetite  of  thirteen,  I 
forgot  the  hour  of  dinner,  was  sought  for  with  anxiety,  and  was 
still  found  entranced  in  my  intellectual  banquet.  To  read  and 


IN    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY.  XXXI 

to  remember  was  in  this  instance  the  same  thing,  and  hence 
forth  I  overwhelmed  my  schoolfellows  and  all  who  would 
hearken  to  me  with  tragical  recitations  from  the  ballads  of 
Bishop  Percy.  The  first  time  too  I  could  scrape  a  few  shillings 
together,  which  were  not  common  occurrences  with  me,  I  bought 
unto  myself  a  copy  of  these  beloved  volumes;  nor  do  I  believe 
I  ever  read  a  book  half  so  frequently  or  with  half  the 
enthusiasm." 


\ 


xxxm 


ON  "BONDMAN," 

THE  NAME  AND   THE  CLASS, 

WITH  REFERENCE  TO  THE  BALLAD  OF  "  JOHN  DE  REEUE.' 

BY  F.  J.  FUENIVALL. 


JOHNSON'S  definition  of  bondman  is  "  a  man  slave."  To  it  his 
latest  editor,  Dr.  Latham,  puts  neither  addition  nor  qualification ; 
and  the  popular  notion  undoubtedly  is,  that  whenever  the  word 
is  used,  of  Early  English  times  or  modern,  a  slave  is  understood, 
one  whose  person,  wife,  children,  and  property,  are  wholly  in 
his  owner's  power.  We  have  to  ask  how  far  this  popular  notion 
is  true  with  regard  to  our  Bondmen,  John  de  Reeue,  Hobkin  or 
Hodgkin  long,  and  Hob  o'  the  Lathe,  and  their  class. 

I  do  not  find  the  word  bondman  in  English  till  about  1250 
A.D.,  taking  that  as  the  date  of  the  Owl  and  Nightingale  : 

Moni  chapmon  and  moni  cniht 
Luveb  and  halt *  his  wif  ariht ; 
And  swa  dej?  moni  bondeman. 
(Owl  and  Nightingale,  \.  1575,  p.  49,  ed.  Stratmann,  1868.) 

The  earlier  word  was  bonde,  and  the  earliest  the  Anglo-Saxon 
bondat  which  Thorpe  rightly  derives  and  defines  as  follows  in 
his  glossary  to  the  Ancient  Laws  : 

Bonda,  boor,  paterfamilias.  This  word  was  probably  introduced 
by  the  Danes,  and  seems  occasionally  to  have  been  used  for  ceorl ; 
its  immediate  derivation  is  from  0.  N.  buandi,  contr [acted  to]  bondi, 
villicus,  colonus  qui  foco  utitur  proprio ;  part.  pres.  used  substantively 
of  at  bud.  Goth,  gabauan  habitare ;  modern  Danish  bonde,  peasant, 
husbandman. 

Bosworth  on  the  other  hand  defines  Bonda  as 

1.  One  bound,  a  husband,  householder.  2.  A  proprietor,  husband 
man,  boor  :  B&nde-land  land  held  under  restrictions,  copyhold. 

1  MS.  Cot.  Mad. 
VOL,  II.  c 


XX  XIV 


ON    "  BONDMAN. 


Whether  '  one  bound '  (as  if  from  bond,  and-a  one  who  has  ; 
like  weed  a  garment,  ivceda  one  who  has  a  garment,)  is  the  original 
sense  of  the  word,  is  more  than  doubtful  ;  and  till  the  proof  is 
produced,  I  reject  the  meaning  as  original,1  though  no  doubt 
at  a  later  period  this  sense  prevailed  over  the  Scandinavian 
one.  Mr.  Wedgwood  says  under  Husband  : 

From  Old  Norse  bua  (the  equivalent  of  Gr.  bauen,  Du.  bowen,  to 
till,  cultivate,  prepare)  are  bu  a  household,  farm,  cattle  ;  buandi, 
bondi?  N.  bonde  the  possessor  of  a  farm,  husbandman ;  Imsbond  or 


1  bondi    (d.  i.   boandi  =  buandi,   der 
Bolide,  freier  Grundbesitzer,  Hausvater, 
pi.  bcendr  mariti. — Mobius. 

2  Mr.  Cockayne  says  "  The  word  Bond 
bound  has  no  existence  but  in  Somner, 
whence    others   have   copied   it.     Bos- 
worth  has  built  on  Bond  a  guess,  Bonda 
one  bound,  which  is  a  delusion.     For 
Bound,  the  true  word  is  bunden,  and  for 
a  Bond,  bend"     Mr.  Earle  also  rejects 
the  derivation  from  bond,  and  the  mean 
ing   "one   bound."     Mr.    Thorpe   says 
that  Ettmiiller  (p.  293)  questions  the 
buandi,  bondi  derivation,  but  without 
sufficient    grounds,    in    Mr.    Thorpe's 
opinion.     Haldorson  accepts  it  "Bondi 
m.  paterfamilias  (quasi  boandi,  buandi) 
en   Husfader,   Husbande,   L.    Colonus, 
ruricola,  en  Bonde,  Storboendr  prsedica- 
tores   (Bonds  with  a  large  house  and 
extensive    ground),     Smaboendr    villici 
(Bonds  with  a  small  house  and  little 
yard)."  Mr.  Skeat  notes  "  Bosworth  also 
gives  Buend,  bugend,  bugigend,  as  mean 
ing  an  inhabitant,  a  farmer,  from  buan, 
to  dwell,  cultivate.     This  comes  nearer 
to  the  Dan.  and  Sw.  bonde  as  regards 
etymology,  though  it  is  not  so  near  in 
form.      Of.  A.-Sax.  buan,  Mceso-Groth. 
bauan,  gabauan,   to   dwell,  bauains,  a 
dwelling-place.     The  Gr.  baiter,  peasant, 
is  the   Du.  boer,  and  our  boor.      It  is 
curious  that  the  Du.  boer,  as  well  as  the 
Sw.  and  Dan.  bonde,  signifies  '  a  pawn 
at  chess.'     I  do  not  see  how  you  dis 
tinguish    between    A.-Sax.  bonda    and 
A.-Sax.   buend,    unless    you    call    the 
former  a   Danish   word.      In    modern 
Danish  the  d  is  not  sounded,  and  the  o 
has  an  oo  sound,  so  that  bonde  is  called 
boon-ne  (Lund's  Danish  Grammar)." 

Professor  Bosworth  has  kindly  sent 
me  the  following  note  in  support  of  the 


first  meaning  he  assigns  to  bonda.  It 
unfortunately  came  too  late — in  conse 
quence  of  the  illness  of  his  aman 
uensis — to  be  worked  up  or  noticed  in 
the  text.  "  Bunda,  bonda,  an  ;  m.  I. 
A  wedded  or  'married  man,  a  husband; 
maritus,  sponsus.  II.  The  father  or 
head  of  a  family,  a  householder ;  pater 
familias,  oeconomus.  Then  follow  nu 
merous  examples,  in  proof  of  these 
meanings.  I've  gone  over  again  all 
the  examples,  and  I  have  enlarged  what 
I  had  previously  written,  as  to  the 
origin  of  '  Bunda,  bonda,'  and  given  the 
detail  in  the  following  pages. — J.  B." 
"  Every  word  has  its  history  by  which 
its  introduction  and  use  are  best  ascer 
tained.  Bede  tells  us  [Bk.  I,  25,  2,] 
that  Ethelbert  king  of  Kent  married  a 
Christian,  Bertha,  a  Prankish  princess. 
The  Queen  prepared  the  way  for  the 
friendly  reception  of  Augustine  and  his 
missionary  followers,  by  Ethelbert  in 
A.D.  597,  who  was  the  first  to  found  a 
school  in  Kent,  and  wrote  laws  which 
are  said  to  be  "asette  on  Augustinus 
dsege,"  established  in  the  time  of  Augus 
tine,  between  A.  D.  597  and  604.  The 
cultivation  and  writing  of  Anglo-Saxon 
[Englisc]  began  with  the  conversion 
of  Ethelbert.  Marriage,  and  the  house 
hold  arrangements  depending  upon  it, 
were  regulated  by  the  law  of  the 
Church,  and  indigenous  compound  words 
were  formed  to  express  that  law  : — thus 
ee  law,  divine  law ;  Cristes  £e  Christi 
lex,  Rihte  se  legitimum  matrimonium 
Bd.  4,  5 — sew  wedlock,  marriage,  sew- 
boren  lawfully  born,  born  in  wedlock — 
sew-brica  m.  wedlock  breaker,  m.  an  adul 
terer,  sew-brice  /.  an  adultress,  sew- 
fsest-mann  marriage-fast-man  a  wedded 
man,  a  husband ;  sew-nian  to  wed,  take 


ON    "  BONDMAN.' 


XXXV 


husband  the  master  of  the  house.     Dan.  bonde  peasant,  countryman, 
villager,  clown. 

Where  the  word  occurs  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  Laws,  Thorpe 
translates  it  "  proprietor,"  and  then  "  husband,"  meaning  "  hus 
band  who  is  a  proprietor." 

Swa  ymbe  friSes-bote,  swa  J>am  bondan  si  selost,  ~\  f>am  feofan  si 
laSost. — JEthelredes  Domas,  vi.  xxxii.1 

So  concerning  "  frithes-bot,"  as  may  be  best  to  the  proprietor  and 
most  hostile  to  the  thief. — Ancient  Laws,  i.  322-3. 


a  wife — &w-nung  wedding,  marriage — 
jew-wif  a  wedded  woman. — Hus-bunda, 
— bonda  a  house  binder,  husband,  house 
holder.  This  expressive  compound  is 
one  of  the  oldest  in  the  language.  It 
is  found  in  the  interpolated  passage  of 
Matt.  xx.  between  v.  28  and  29.  The 
passage  is  in  all  the  Anglo-Saxon  MSS. 
of  the  Gospels,  except  the  interlineary 
glosses.  The  A.-Sax.  is  a  literal  ver 
sion  of  the  Augustinian  MS.  in  the  Bod 
leian  Library,  Oxford  [Codex,  August. 
857,  D.  2,  14],  from  the  Old  Italic 
version,  from  which  the  Latin  Viilgate 
of  the  Gospels  was  formed  by  St.  Jerome 
about  A.D.  384.  Though  we  do  not 
know  the  exact  dates  when  the  Gospels 
were  translated  from  Latin  into  A.-Sax., 
Cuthbert  assures  us  that  Bede  finished 
the  last  Gospel,  Bt.  John,  on  May  27, 
735,  [See  Pref.  to  Goth,  and  A.-Sax. 
Gos.  Bos.  p.  ix-xii].  As  the  three  pre 
ceding  Gospels  were  most  likely  trans 
lated  before  St.  John,  then  the  follow 
ing  sentence  was  written  before  735,  Se 
hus-bonda  [hus-bunda  in  MS.  Camb.  li. 
2,  11,]  hate  <5e  arisan  and  ryman  £am 
ofcrum,  the  householder  bid  thee  rise  and 
make  room  for  the  other.  Notes  to  Bos- 
worth's  Goth,  and  A.-Sax.  Gos.  Mt.  xx. 
28  ;  p.  576.  Hiis-bonda  is  also  used 
by  Elfric  in  his  version  of  the  Scrip 
tures  about  970  [Ex.  3,  22.]  Bunda, 
bonda  one  wedded  or  bound,  a  husband, 
from  bindan ;  p.  band,  bundon ;  pp. 
bunden ;  to  bind,  must  have  been  of 
earlier  origin  than  the  compound  hus- 
bunda.  It  is  a  well-known  rule  that  in 
A.-Sax.  a  person  or  agent  is  denoted  by 


adding  a,*  as  bytl  a  hatnnur,  bytla  a 
hammerer,  an  weald  rule,  government, 
anwealda  a  rulir,  governor, — bunden, 
bund  bound,  bunda,  bonda  one  bound, 
a  husband.  Bunda  might  be  banda,  as 
well  as  bonda,  for  a  is  often  used  for  o, 
as  monn  for  mann  a  man.  The  early 
use  of  hus-bucda,  -bonda  would  at  onco 
indicate,  that  it  was  not  likely  to  be  of 
Norse  or  Icelandic  origin.  It  could  not 
be  derived  from  the  Norse  bua  to  dwell, 
part,  buandi  boandi  dwelling,  nor  even 
from  the  cognate  A.-Sax.  buan  to  dwell, 
because  the  u  and  6  are  long  in  the 
Norse  bua  to  dwell,  buandi,  boandi 
dwelling,  and  the  A.-Sax.  buan  to  dwell, 
buende  dwelling,  buend,  buenda  a 
dweller,  while  the  u  and  o  are  always 
short  in  bunda  and  bonda.  So  in  other 
compounds  from  bindan  to  bind,  as 
bunde-land  bond  or  leased  land,  land  let 
on  binding  conditions.  Bunda  then  is 
a  pure  Anglo-Saxon  word,  derived  from 
bindan  to  bind.  Buan  to  dwell,  with  the 
part,  buende  dwelling,  and  the  noun 
buend,  es  ;  m.  a  dweller,  is  quite  a  dis 
tinct  word.  Buend  has  its  own  numer 
ous  compounds ;  as, — Land-buend  a  land 
dweller,  a  farmer;  agricola.  An-buend 
one  dwelling  alone,  a  hermit ;  ceaster-, 
eg-,  eorp-,  feor-,  fold-,  grund-,  her-,  ig-, 
land-,  neah-,  sund-,  woruld-  and  f>eod- 
buend." 

1  Ethelred,  son  of  Edgar,  succeeded  to 
the  throne,  on  the  murder  of  his  brother 
Edward,  in  the  year  978,  and  died  in 
1016. — Thorpe's  note  in  Laws  and  Inst. 
of  England,  vol.  i.  p.  280. 


*  To  a  substantive,  not  a  verb  or  participle. — F. 
C  2 


XXXVI  ON 

Again,  in  the  same  sentence  nearly  repeated  in  Cnutes  Domas, 
viii.  (Canute  died  12  Nov.  1035)  ")?am  bondan,foY  the  pro 
prietor"  p.  380-1.  At  p.  414-15,  Cnutes  Domas,  Ixxiii. 

Conjux  incolat  eandem  Sedem  quam  Maritus. 
LXXIII.   And  ]783r  se  bonda  saet  unwyd  -3  unhecrafod,  sitte  f  wif  ^ 
}>a  cild  on  f>an  ylcan  unbesacen.    And  gif  se  bonda  ser  he  dead  waere, 
heclypod  wsere,  ponne  andwyrdan  J>a  yrfenuman,  swa  he  sylf  sceolde 
]>eah  he  lif  haefde. 

And  where  the  husband  dwelt  without  claim  or  contest,  let  the  wife 
and  the  children  dwell  in  the  same,  unassailed  by  litigation.  And 
if  the  husband,  before  he  was  dead,  had  been  cited,  then  let  the  heirs 
answer,  as  himself  should  have  done  if  he  had  lived. 

So  the  Laws  of  King  Henry  the  First  (who  reigned  1 100-35 
A.D.),  repeating  the  last  provision,  say  : 

§  5  Et  ubi  bunda  manserit  sine  calumpnia,  sint  uxor  et  pueri  in 
eodem,  sine  querela  &c. — Ancient  Laws,  i.  526. 

In  1048  A.D.  the  Saxon  Chronicle  uses  bunda  for  a  house- 
holding  cultivator  or  farmer : 

Da  he  [Eustatius]  waes  sume  mila  oSSe  mare  beheonan  Dofran  . 
)>a  dyde  he  on  his  byrnan  .  and  his  ge-feran  ealle  .  and  foran  to 
Dofran  .  J>a  hi  Jnder  comon  .  ]?a  woldon  hi  innian  hi  feer  heom  sylfan 
gelicode  .  fa  com  an  his  manna  .  and  wolde  wician  aet  anes  bundan1. 
huse,  his  unSances  .  and  .gewundode  J>one  husbundon  .  and  se  hus- 
bnnda  2  ofsloh  J>one  otierne.  Da  weard  Eustatms  uppon  his  horse  . 
and  his  ge-feoran  uppon  heora  .  and  ferdon  to  ]>an  husbundon  .  and 
ofslogon  nine  binnan  his  agenan  heorftaa  .  and  wendon  him  ]>a  up  to 
]?86re  burge- weard  .  and  ofslogon  aegfter  ge  wiftinnan  ge  wifiutan  .  ma 
fanne  xx  manna. — Saxon  Chronicle,  ed.  Earle,  p.  177  (A.D.  1048.) 

When  he  [Eustathius]  was  some  miles  or  more  beyond  Dover, 
then  put  he  on  his  armour,  and  all  his  companions  (did  likewise), 
and  went  to  Dover.  When  they  came  thither,  then  would  they 
lodge  where  they  pleased.  Then  came  one  of  his  men,  and  would 
dwell  at  the  house  of  a  cultivator  (or  householder)  against  his  will, 
and  wounded  the  cultivator ;  and  the  cultivator  slew  the  other. 
Then  Eustathius  got  upon  his  horse,  and  his  companions  on  theirs, 
and  went  to  the  cultivator,  and  slew  him  within  his  own  hearth  ;  and 

1  bundan,  gen.  sing,  goodman,  1048.  plode  the  "  moral-etymology  "  of  a  hus- 
Glossarial  Index.  band  being  so  called  because  he  is  the 

2  The  equivalence   of  the   husbunda  band  or  binder-together  of  the  house, 
with  the  bunda  here  is  enough  to  ex-  even  if  Dr.  Hosworth  be  right. 


ON  "BONDMAN.  xxxvn 

went  then  up  to  the  guard  of  the  city,  and  slew  both  within  and 
without  more  than  20  men. 

In  a  passage  in  Hickes  the  (no  doubt)  free  bunda,  paying  a 
fine,  is  contrasted  with  the  thrcell  who  gets  a  flogging : 

And  £if  hwa  ftis  ne  jelseste  .  J>onne  ^ebete  he  f  swa  swa  hit  jela^od 
is  .  bunda  mid  xxx  pen.  ftrsel  mid  his  hyde  .  fe^n  mid  xxx  scill. — From 
Hickes's  Dissertatio  Epistolaris,  p.  108. 

And  if  any  one  does  not  perform  this,  then  let  him  make  amends 
for  that  as  is  laid-down- by-law :  the  bonde  with  xxx  pence,  the  thrall 
with  his  hide,  the  thane  with  xxx  shillings. 

Thus  far  then  the  evidence — for  I  do  not  admit  Bosworth's 
"  one  bound  "  as  right — points  to  the  bonde  being  a  freeman, 
and  if  not  a  landed  proprietor,  still  a  free  tenant.  The  evidence 
of  the  freedom  is  strengthened  if  we  may  regard  the  Danish- 
named  bonde  as  a  Saxon-named  churl — the  name  of  one 
seeming  to  be  used  for  the  other,  as  Mr.  Thorpe  observes,  for 
the  ceorla  was  a  free  man,  the  "  ordinary  freeman  "  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  society,  though  obliged  by  "  the  feudal  system  "  which 
ff  may  be  traced  throughout  all  Anglo-Saxon  history,  to  provide 
himself  with  a  lord,  that  he  might  be  amenable  to  justice  when 
called  upon."  *  Still,  this  vassalage  was  no  bondage  in  the  later  or 
the  modern  sense  of  the  term ;  the  vassal  churl  was  a  freeman 
still,  if  we  may  trust  Heywood. 

In  Alfred's  time,  and  later,  the  ceorl  had  slaves.  Sec.  25  of 
Alfred's  Laws  (translated)  is : 

If  a  man  commit  a  rape  upon  a  ceorl' s  female  slave  (mennen),  let 
him  make  bot  (amends)  to  the  ceorl  with  5  shillings,  and  let  the 
wite  (fine)  be  60  shillings.  Anc.  Laivs,  i.  79. 

The  A.-S.  laws  of  Hanks  enact  that, 

if  a  ceorl  thrived,  so  that  he  had  fully  five  hides  of  his  own  land, 
church  and  kitchen,  bell-house,  and  "  burh"-gate-seat,  and  special 
duty  in  the  king's  hall,  then  was  he  thenceforth  of  thane-right 
worthy. — Anc.  Laws,  i.  191. 

Thorpe  defines  ceorl  thus  : 

Ceorl.  O.H.G.  charal.  A  freeman  of  ignoble  rank,  a  churl,  twy- 
hinde  man,  villanus,  illiberalis. 

Twyhynde  (Man),  a  man  whose  '  wer-gild'  was  200  shillings. 
This  was  the  lowest  class  of  Anglo-Saxon  aristocracy.  Twelf-hynde 

1  Hey  wood's  Distinctions  in  Society,  1818,  p.  32o. 


XXXV111  ON 

{Man),  a  man  whose  wer-gild  was  1200   shillings.     This  was  the 
highest  class  of  Anglo-Saxon  aristocracy. 

The  slave  was  a  Iprcel  or  ^eow.  Mr.  Thorpe  considers  tyrcvl 
to  be  a  Scandinavian  word. 

Next  comes  the  question,  did  these  bondes  or  ceorls  continue 
free  till  the  time  of  the  Conquest  ?  Kemble  says  not : 

*  Finally,  the  nobles-by-birth  themselves  became  absorbed  in  the 
ever- widening  whirlpool  ;  day  by  day  the  freemen,  deprived  of  their 
old  national  defences,  wringing  with  difficulty  a  precarious  sub 
sistence  from  incessant  labour,  sullenly  yielded  to  a  yoke  which  they 
could  not  shake  off,  and  commended  themselves  (such  was  the 
phrase)  to  the  protection  of  a  lord  ;  till  a  complete  change  having 
thus  been  operated  in  the  opinions  of  men,  and  consequently  in 
every  relation  of  society,  a  new  order  of  things  was  consummated, 
in  which  the  honours  and  security  of  service  became  more  anxiously 
desired  than  a  needy  and  unsafe  freedom  ;  and  the  alods  being 
finally  surrendered,  to  be  taken  back  as  beneficia^  under  mediate  lords, 
the  foundations  of  the  royal,  feudal  system  were  securely  laid  on 
every  side. — Kemble,  The  Saxons  in  England,  vol.  i.  p.  184. 

The  very  curious  and  instructive  dialogue  of  .^Elfric  numbers 
among  the  serfs  the  yrftling  or  ploughman,1  whose  occupation  the 
author  nevertheless  places  at  the  head  of  all  the  crafts,  with  per 
haps  a  partial  exception  in  favour  of  the  smith's. — Ibid.  p.  216. 

Mr.  C.  H.  Pearson  also  says  not : 

Not  only  were  slaves  increasing,  but  freemen  were  disappearing. 
The  ceorl  is  never  mentioned  in  our  laws  after  Edward  the  elder's 
time.  If  he  became  the  villan  of  a  later  period,  he  was  already 
semi- servile  before  the  Norman  conquest.  If  he  passed  into  the 
freeman,2  sometimes  holding  in  his  own  right,  and  sometimes  under 
a  lord's  protection,  the  class  did  not  number  5  per  cent,  of  the 
population  at  the  time  when  Domesday  was  compiled,  was  virtually 
confined  to  Norfolk  and  Suffolk,  and  had  not  even  a  representative 
in  the  counties  south  of  the  Thames.  It  is  evident  that  the  bulk  of 
the  Saxon  people  was  in  no  proper  sense,  and  at  no  time  free.  Even 
the  free  in  name  were  virtually  bound  down  to  the  soil  with  the 
possession  of  which  their  rights  were  connected,  and  from  which 
their  subsistence  was  derived  ;  .  .  .  the  idea  that  any  man  might  go 
where  he  would,  live  as  he  liked,  think  or  express  his  thoughts 
freely,  would  have  been  repugnant  to  the  whole  tenour  of  a  con 
stitution  which  started  from  the  Old  Testament  as  a  model,  pre 
served  or  incorporated  the  traditions  of  Roman  law,  and  regarded 
the  regulation  of  life  as  the  duty  of  the  legislator. 

1  This  should  be  compared  with  the          2  Had  he  not  always  been  free? 
second  extract  from  Havdok  below. 


ON  "BONDMAN."  xxxix 

The  mention  of  villan  brings  us  to  the  Conquest1  and  to  Domes 
day-book.  On  every  page  of  the  latter  villani  are  mentioned, 
and  the  articles  of  enquiry  for  the  composition  of  it  show  that 
the  enquiry  into  the  population  and  property  of  each  district 
"  was  conducted  by  the  king's  barons,  upon  the  oaths  of  the 
sheriff  of  each  county,  and  all  the  barons,  and  their  French-born 
vassals,  and  of  the  hundredary  (reeve  of  the  hundred),  priest, 
steward,  and  six  villeins  of  every  vill"  &c.  (Heywood,  p.  290, 
note).  The  question  for  us  is,  are  we  to  take  as  free  men  or  not 
these  villans,  who  were  to  help  in  settling  what  "  served  for  cen 
turies  as  the  basis  of  all  taxation,  and  the  authority  by  which  all 
disputes  about  landed  tenures  and  customs  were  decided,"  who 
were  to  state  "  on  oath  what  amount  of  land  there  was  in  the 
district,  whether  it  was  wood,  meadow,  or  pasture,  what  was  its 
value,  what  services  were  due  from  its  owners ;  and  generally  the 
numbers  of  free  and  bond  on  the  estate  "  (Pearson,  i.  374). 

The  arguments  of  Serjeant  Hey  wood  for  the  identity  2  of  the 
villein  with  the  ceorl  or  twihynde  man  seem  to  me  very  strong 
indeed;  and  Mr.  Pearson  tells  me  that  in  the  earlier  use  of  the 
word  villanus,  the  first  which  he  knows, — namely,  that  in  the 
preamble  to  the  Decree  of  the  Bishops  and  Witan  of  Kent 
about  keeping  the  peace  under  Athelstan,  which  speaks  of 
Thaini,  Comites,  et  Villani, — he  thinks  that  "  villan  "  means 
"  ceorl  "  very  literally. 

Serjeant  Hey  wood  first  shows  that  the  Textus  Roffensis,  in 
explaining  a  passage  from  the  Judicia  Civitatis  Lundonice  like 
that  quoted  above  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  Laws 3  "  makes  it 

1  Of  the  name  villanus  Serjt.  Hey  wood  ranks  of   society  as  freemen,  socmen, 
says,  "  I  have  not  met  with  it  in  any  and  perhaps  in  some  cases  bordars  and 
authentic  documents  till  about  the  time  cottars.     It  must  be  remembered  that 
of  the  Conquest,  but  it  is  found  in  the  the   Rcctitudincs  Singularum   Tcrsona- 
laws  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  William  rum  use  the  word  villanus  to  translate 
the   Conqueror,   and    Henry   the   first.  the  Saxon  geneat,  and   that  the  word 
Among  the  Saxons  were  many  words  ceorla  does  not  occur  in  the  whole  docu- 
descriptive  of  persons  engaged  in  hus-  ment." 

bandry,  as  ceorls,  cyrlisc  men,  geneats,  *  De  gentis  et  legis  honoribus.     Fuit 

tunesmen,  landsmen,  &c.,  but  the  pro-  quondam  in  legibus  Anglorum  ea  gens 

per  appellation  for   a  villan   has   not  et  lex  pro  honoribus,  et  ibi  erant  sapi- 

been    ascertained." — Pp.    290-1.      But  entes  populi  honore  digni,  quilibet  pro 

see  the  next  paragraph  above.  sua  ratione ;  comes  et  colonus,  thanus  et 

2  Mr.  Pearson  says  we  must  "  under-  rusticus   (eorl    and    ceorl,    thegcn    and 
stand  it  with  the  reservation  that  while  theowen). 

the  vast  majority  of  the  ceorl  class  had  Et  si  colonus  tamen  sit,  qui  habeat 

degraded  into  the  position  of  villans,       integras  quinque  hydas  terrse,  ecclesiam 
others  were  distributed  in  the  different       et  culinam,  turrim  sacram  (bill  kus)  et 


xl  ON  "BONDMAN." 

relate  to  villan  and  not  to  ceorls  (L.  coloni),  whence  we  may  infer 
that  the  author  considered  them  as  the  same  persons  "  (Disser 
tation,  p.  185).  He  next  shows  that  the  eighth  law  of  William 
the  Conqueror,  which  makes  the  were  of  a  villan  only  100 
shillings,  was  probably  wrongly  transcribed  ;  and  that  the  seven 
tieth  law  of  Henry  I.  expressly  defines  the  free  twihind  as  a 
villan  : — "  the  were  of  a  twihind,  that  is,  a  villan,  is  five  pounds : 
twyhindi,  i.  villani,  wera  est  IV  lib' ;" — and  the  76th  law 
classes  the  twihinds  among  the  free  men.  Also  that 

in  other  parts  of  the  laws,  villans  are  ranked  with  ceorls  and  twihinds. 
Moreover  the  weres  of  a  cyrlisc  man  &  [that  is,  or]  a  villan  are  ex 
pressly  mentioned,  and  required  to  be  regulated  in  the  same  manner 
as  that  of  a  twelfhind.1 — Hey  wood,  p.  295. 

Another  proof  may  be  adduced  from  their  being  liable  to  the  pay 
ment  of  reliefs  which  never  were  called  for  from  the  servile  class. 
When,  therefore,  provision  was  made  in  the  laws  of  William  the 
Conqueror  for  the  exaction  of  a  relief  from  every  villan,  of  his  best 
beast,  whether  a  horse,  an  ox,  or  a  cow,  we  must  conclude  that,  at 
the  time  of  compiling  those  laws,  namely,  about  four  years  after  the 
Conquest,  a  villan  was  a  freeman, 

and  this  notwithstanding  the  concluding  words  of  the  law,  et 
posted  sint  omnes  villani  in  franco  plegio,  which  must  be 
taken  as  confirming  an  old  truth,  for  the  payment  of  one  relief 
• — which  villans  before  the  Conquest  had  paid — could  not  have 
turned  an  unfree  man  into  a  free  one.  Serjeant  Hey  wood  adds : 

Another  powerful  argument  in  favor  of  the  supposition  that  villans 
ranked  among  freemen,  arises  from  the  consideration  that,  unless 
this  had  been  the  case,  the  bulk  of  the  population  of  England  must 
have  been  found  in  the  servile  class.  We  cannot  imagine  that  the 
farmers,  who  held  at  the  payment  of  rent,  either  in  money  or  kind, 
could  be  so  very  numerous  as  to  furnish  victuals  for  the  armies  which 
were  collected,  provide  members  for  all  the  tythings,  and  crowd  the 
public  assemblies  which  were  held  for  judicial  purposes.  But  upon 
the  demesne  lands  of  almost  every  lord,  villans  might  be  found,  and  if 
they  were  admitted  to  bear  the  name,  and  partake  of  the  privileges 
of  freemen,  and  rank  with  ceorls  or  twihinds,  the  difficulty  vanishes 
(p.  300), 

atrii   sedem  (burkgeat  sett)  ac  officium  habere   quinque  hidas   de  suo  proprio 

distinctum  (sunder  note)  in  aula  regis,  allodii  &c.  ib.  p.  185. 
ille   tune   in   posterum   sit  jure   thani  '   Eodem  modo  per  omnia  de  cyrlisci 

(th/gen    rihtas)   dignus. — Htywood,    p.  vcl   villani  wera   fieri  debet  secundum 

184.     Text.  Koff.  46  has  for  colonus  of  modum  suum,  sicut  de  duodecies  cen- 

the  above,  villanus.    "  Et  si  mllanus  ita  teno  diximus. — LI.  Hen.  i.  76  ;  Wilkins, 

crevisset  sua   probitate,  quod   pleniter  270,  in  Hcy-wood,  p.  295  n. 


ON  "BONDMAN."  xli 

Professor  Pearson  looks  on  the  villans  as  t  bond  upon  bond 
land,'  and  as  to  the  numbers  of  them  and  the  freemen  and  the 
population  generally  at  Domesday,  gives  Sir  Henry  Ellis's  and 
Sir  James  Macintosh's  calculations  as  follows  : 

We  may  probably  place  it  [the  population]  at  rather  over  than 
under  1,800,000  ;  a  number  which  may  seem  small,  but  which  was  not 
doubled  till  the  reign  of  Charles  II.,  six  hundred  years  later.  Re 
verting  to  the  actual  survey,  we  find  about  two  thousand  persons 
who  held  immediately  of  the  king  (E  1400,  M  1599),  or  who  were 
attached  to  the  king's  person  (M  326),  or  who  had  no  holding,  but 
were  free  to  serve  as  they  would  (M  213).  The  second  class,  the 
free  upon  bond-land,  comprised  more  than  50,000  ;  under-tenants  or 
vavasors  (E  7171,  M  2899) ;  burghers  (E  7968,  M  17,105);  soc-men 
(E  23,072,  M  23,404)  ;  freemen,  holding  by  military  service,  or 
having  been  degraded  into  tenants  to  obtain  protection  (E  14,284)  ; 
and  ecclesiastics  (E  994,  M  1564).  The  largest  class  of  all  was  the 
semi-servile.  Of  these  villeins  (E  108,407,  M  102,704),  and  bordars,1 
or  cottiers  (E  88,922,  M  80,320),  make  up  the  mass,  about  200,000 
in  all.  They  were  bond  upon  bond-land,  that  is  to  say,  their  land 
owed  a  certain  tribute  to  its  owner,  and  they  owed  certain  services 
to  the  land  ;  they  could  not  quit  it  without  permission  from  their 
lord.  But  they  were  not  mere  property;  they  could  not  be  sold  off 
the  soil  into  service  of  a  different  kind,  like  the  few  slaves  who  still 
remained  in  England,  and  who  numbered  roughly  about  25,000. 

The  large  number  of  the  middle  classes,  and  the  small  number  of 
slaves,  are  points  in  this  estimate  that  deserve  consideration.  It  is 
clear  that  the  conquest  did  not  introduce  any  new  refinement  in  ser 
vitude.  In  a  matter  where  we  have  no  certain  data,  all  statements 
must  be  made  guardedly ;  but  the  language  of  chroniclers  and  laws, 
and  the  probabilities  of  what  would  result  from  the  anarchy  and  war 
that  had  so  long  desolated  England  under  its  native  kings  induce  a 
belief  that  the  conquest  was  a  gain  to  all  classes,  except  the  highest, 
in  matters  of  freedom.  In  Essex  the  number  of  freemen  positively 
increased,  and  the  change  may  probably  be  ascribed  to  the  growing 
wool-trade  with  Flanders,  as  we  find  sheep  multiplying  on  the  great 
estates,  and  with  the  change  from  arable  to  pasture-land  fewer  labour 
ers  would  be  required.  The  fact  that  the  large  and  privileged  class  of 
soc-men  was  especially  numerous  in  two  counties,  Norfolk  and  Suffolk, 
in  which  a  desperate  revolt  had  been  pitilessly  put  down,  seems  to 
show  that  existing  rights  were  not  lightly  tampered  with.  In  Bed 
fordshire,  however,  the  soc-men  were  degraded  to  serfs,  probably 
through  the  lawless  dealing  of  its  Angevine  sheriff,  Raoul  Taillebois, 
and  the  county  accordingly  fell  off  in  rental  beyond  any  other  in 

1  Heywood  draws  a  distinction  be-  &c.,  who  are  generally  mentioned  after 
tween  the  villans  and  bordars,  cottars,  them  in  Domesday. 


xlii 

England  south  of  Humber,  though  it  had  enjoyed  a  singular  ex 
emption  from  all  the  ravages  of  war. 

The  concluding  paragraph  of  the  foregoing  extract  is  printed 
"because  in  it  is,  forme,  pointed  out  the  true  cause  of  the  villan's 
hardships,  of  the  exactions  of  which  his  class  so  bitterly  com 
plained,  the  character  of  the  Norman  baron,  and  his  power  over 
his  dependants.  The  thirtieth  law  of  Henry  I.  speaks  in  mode 
rated  phrase  the  spirit  of  the  earlier  time.  It  calls  the  villaos 
with  the  cocseti  and  pardingi  (probably  bondmen  inferior  to 
the  villans)  hujusmodi  viles  vel  inopes  personce,  declares  them 
disqualified  to  be  reckoned  among  judges,  excludes  them  from 
bringing  any  civil  suits  in  the  county  or  hundred  courts,  and 
refers  them,  for  the  redress  of  injuries,  to  the  courts  of  their 
own  barons  (Heywood,  p.  29 1).1 

And  it  is  (I  believe)  precisely  because  Edward  I.  made  a 
resolute  attempt  to  break  down  this  power  of  the  barons  over 
their  villaDS,2  which  must  have  often  been  awfully  abused, — and 
not  only  tried  to,  but  did  to  some  extent  substitute  his  own 
judges'  court  for  the  barons'  one3 — thereby  rescuing  many  a 
villan  from  a  bondman's  fate ;  it  is  for  this  reason  that  he  is 
the  hero  of  our  ballad  of  John  de  Reeve.  Not  only  for  the 
long  shanks  with  which  he  strode  against  Wales,  or  the  hammer 
he  wielded  against  Scotland,  was  the  first  king  who  conceived 
and  fought  for  the  unity  of  Great  Britain  dear  to  the  villans  of 


1  Villani  vero,  vel  cocseti  vel  pardingi  inquiries  of  this  Commission  the  first 
vel  qui  sunt  hujusmodi  viles  vel  inopes  chapter  of  the  Statute  of  Gloucester, 
personse,  non  sunt  inter  legum  judices  relating  to  Liberties,  Franchises  and  Quo 
numerandi,  u.nde  nee  in  hundredo  vel  Warranto  (by  what  warrant  the  Parties 
comitatu  pecuniam  suam,  vel  domino-  held  or  claimed)  was  ftmnded  (ib.). 
rum   suorum  forisfaciunt,  si  justitiam  3  See  below,  and  also  the  Statute  of 
sine  judicio  dimittant,  sed  summonitis  4  Edw.  I.     A  Statute  concerning  Jus- 
terrarum  dominis  inforcietur  placitum  tices  being  assigned,  called  Kageman. 
termino  competent!,  si  fuerint  vel  non  "  It  is  accorded  by  our  Lord  the  King, 
fuerint  antea  summoniti  cum  secuti  jus  and  by  his  Council,  that  Justices  shall 
sestimatis. — LI.  Hen. i.  c.  30;  Wilkins,  248,  go  throughout  the  Land  to  inquire,  hear, 
in  Heywood,  p.  292.  and  determine  all  the  Complaints  and 

2  One  of  the  first  Acts  of  his  (Edward  Suits  for  Trespasses  committed  within 
I.'s)   Administration,  after  his  Arrival  these  twenty -five  years  past,  before  the 
from  the  Holy  Land,  was  to  inquire  into  Feast   of  Saint  Michael,  in  the  fourth 
the  State  of  the  Demesnes,  and  of  the  year  of  King  Edward  ;  as  well  by  the 
Rights  and  Revenues  of  the  Crown,  and  King's  Bailiffs  &  Officers  as  by  other 
concerning  the  Conduct  of  the  Sheriffs  Bailiffs,  &  by  all  other  Persons  whom- 
and  other  Officers  and  Ministers,  who  soever.     And  this  is  to  be  understood 
had  defrauded  the  King  and  grievously  as  well  of  outrageous  Takings,  and  all 
oppressed  the  People  (Annals  of  Waver-  Manner   of  Trespasses,  Quarrels,  and 
ley,  235)  Hundred  Rolls,  i.  10.     On  the  Offences  done  unto  the  King  and  others, 


ON    "  BONDMAN."  xliii 

his  own  l  and  after  times.  His  steps  and  his  blows  came  nearer 
their  homes,  and  did  something  to  clear  oppressors  out  of  their 
path.  When  in  easier  days  they  could  sing  of  olden  time,  they 
gave  the  long  king  a  merry  night  with  three  of  their  kin,  and 
remembered  with  gratitude  England's  "  first  thoroughly  consti 
tutional  "  sovereign.  This  I  gather  from  one  of  a  series  of 
interesting  articles  on  the  "  Eights,  Disabilities,  and  Wages  of 
the  English  Peasantry"  in  the  new  Series  of  the  Law  Maga 
zine  and  Review.  But  I  am  anticipating. 

In  the  time  of  Edward  I.  bondage  was  looked  upon  as  no  part  of 
the  common  law ;  it  existed  by  sufferance  and  by  local  usage,  and 
was  recognised,  but  only  barely  tolerated  by  the  law.  The  law  was 
on  the  side  of  freedom.  A  leaper  or  land-loper,  as  a  fugitive  was 
called,  could  rarely  be  recovered  in  a  summary  manner ;  if  he  chose 
to  deny  his  bondage,  the  writ  of  niefty  did  not  give  the  Sheriff  autho 
rity  to  seize  him  ;  the  question  of  his  condition  had  to  stand  over  until 
the  Assizes,  or  had  to  be  argued  in  the  Court  of  Common  Pleas. — 
Law  Mag.  1862,  vol.  xiii,  p.  38-9. 

We  need  not  attribute  a  long  range  of  foresight,  or  very  enlight 
ened  views  of  freedom,  to  the  counsellors  of  Edward  I.  Their  re 
sistance  to  villenage  was  instinctive  rather  than  deliberate.  Villen- 
age  in  their  eyes  appeared  to  be  a  consequence  of  those  powers  of 
local  jurisdiction  which  had  been  indispensable  in  former  times  on 
account  of  the  weakness  of  the  central  power,  but  were  no  longer 
wanted  since  the  central  power  had  become  truly  imperial.  The 
same  landlords  who  claimed  a  right  to  keep  their  dependents  in 
bondage,  usually  claimed  some  degree  of  judicial  power ;  they 
claimed  to  have  a  more  or  less  extensive  cognizance  over  crimes 
committed,  and  criminals  arrested  within  their  precincts.  Such  a 
claim  could  only  rest  upon  prescription  ;  any  such  pretension  not 

touched  in  the  Inquests  heretofore  found  Gloucester    or     Quo     Warranto    of     6 

by  the  King's  command,  as  of  Trespasses  Edw.  I. 

committed  since.    And  the  King  willeth,  "  And  the  Sheriffs  shall  cause  it  to  be 

that  for  Relief  of  the  People  (pour  le  commonly  proclaimed  throughout  their 

allegaunce  del  poeple)  and  speedy  execu-  Bailliwicks,  that    is  to   say,  in    Cities, 

tion   of  Justice,  That   the  Complaints  Boroughs,    Market    towns,    and    else- 

of  every  one  be  heard  before  the  afore-  where,  that  all  those  who  claim  to  have 

said  Justices,  &  determined,  as  well  by  any  Franchises,  by  the  Charters  of  the 

Writ  as  without,  according  to  the  Arti-  King's  Predecessors,  Kings  of  England, 

cles  delivered  unto  the  same  Justices ;  or  in  other  manner,  shall  come  before 

&  this  is  to  be  understood  as  well  within  the   King,    or   before   the   Justices   in 

Franchise  as  without.     Also  the  King  Eyre,  at  a  certain  day  and  place,  to  show 

willeth  that  the  same  Justices  do  hear  what  sort  of  Franchise  they   claim  to 

and  determine  the  Complaints  of  those  have,  and  by  what  Warrant." 

who  will  complain  of  Matters  done  by  !  I  do  not  forget  the  groans  of  "  The 

any  one  contrary  to  the  King's  Statutes,  Song    of    the    Husbandman  "    (temp, 

as  well  of  what  concerneth  the  King  as  Edw.  I.)  printed  in  Wright's  Political 

the  people."     See  also  the  Statutes  of  Songs  for  the  Camden  Society. 


xliv  ON 

supported  by  immemorial  usage  would  soon  be  upset  by  the  King's 
attorney.  The  general  Government  struggled  hard  to  extend  its 
jurisdiction,  to  extinguish  the  private  courts,  to  bring  as  many  cases 
as  possible  before  the  Courts  at  Westminster,  and  before  the  Justices 
in  Eyre.  The  private  courts  were  not  abolished,  but  gradually 
superseded.  After  all  that  the  lords  could  do  to  keep  their  villeins 
from  Assizes,  villeins  constantly  became  jurors,  and  bond-lands  were 
constantly  drawn  into  the  King's  Courts,  and  were  thus  in  the  way 
to  be  drawn  into  freeholds.  Perhaps  every  circuit  of  the  judges 
emancipated  a  number  of  bondmen. — Ib.  p.  40. 

In  seeking  for  the  light  in  which  the  Norman  baron  would 
regard  his  Saxon  villans,  I  think  that  Mr.  Thomas  Wright 1  is 
justified  in  his  adduction  of  the  following  instances, 

The  chronicler  Benoit  (as  well  as  his  rival  Wace)  extols  Duke 
Richard  II.  for  the  hatred  which  he  bore  towards  the  agricultural 
or  servile  class  :  "  he  would  suffer  none  but  knights  to  have  employ 
ment  in  his  house  ;  never  was  a  villan  or  one  of  rustic  blood  ad 
mitted  into  his  intimacy  ;  for  the  villan,  forsooth,  is  always  han 
kering  after  the  filth  in  which  he  was  bred." — p.  237, 

]>e   J>ridde   cumeS   efter,  &  is  The    third     flatterer    cometh 

wurst  fikelare,  ase  ich  er  seide  :  after,  and  is  the  worse,  as  I  said 

vor   he   preiseft   J>ene   vuele,     &  before,  for  he  praiseth  the  wicked 

his  vuele  deden,  ase  J>e  }>e  seiS  to  and  his  evil  deeds  ;    as  he  who 

]?e  knihte  J>et  robbed  his  poure  said  to  the  knight  that  robbed  his 

men,    "  A,   sire !    hwat    tu   dest  poor   vassals,    "  Ah,    sire  !    truly 

wel.     Uor  euere  me  schal  fene  thou  doest  well.     For  men  ought 

cheorl   pilken    &    peolien :    uor  always  to  pluck  and  pillage   the 

he  is  ase  J>e  wiSi,  }>et   sprutteS  churl ;  for  he  is  like  the  willow, 

ut   pe   betere  J>ee£  me   hine  offce  which  sprouteth  out  the  better 

cropped."  that  it  is  often  cropped. 

— Ancren  Riwle  (?  ab.  1230  A.D.)  p.  87,  Camden  Soc.  1853  (quoted 
in  part  by  Wright). 

and  in  referring  to  those  most  interesting  Norman-French 
satires  on  the  villans  that  M.  Francisque  Michel  published,  and 
which  contain  such  passages  as  the  following : 

Que  Diex  lor  envoit  grant  meschief, 
Et  mal  au  cuer,  et  mal  au  chief, 
Mai  es  bouche,  et  pis  es  dens, 
Et  mal  dehors,  et  mal  dedens     .     .     . 
Et  le  mal  c'on  dist  ne-me-tcmche, 
Mal  en  orelle,  et  mal  en  bouche ! 

(Des  XXIII  Manures  de  Vilains,  Paris,  1833,  p.  12.) 

1  Paper  on  the  political  condition  of  Middle  Ages,  in  Archceologia ,  vol.  xxx. 
the  English  Peasantry  during  the  p.  205-44. 


ON    "  BONDMAN."  xlv 

"Why  should  villans  eat  beef,  or  any  dainty  food  ?  "  inquires  the 
writer  of  Le  Despit  au  Vilain  ;  "  they  ought  to  eat,  for  their  Sunday 
diet,  nettles,  reeds,  briars,  and  straw,  while  pea  shells  are  good 
enough  for  their  every-day  food.  .  .  .  They  ought  to  go  forth  naked, 
on  bare  feet  in  the  meadows  to  eat  grass  with  the  horned  oxen.  .  .  . 
The  share  of  the  villan  is  folly,  and  sottishness  and  filth ;  if  all  the 
goods  and  all  the  gold  of  this  world  were  his,  the  villan  would  be 
but  a  villan  still."— Wright,  p.  238.1 

Though  Mr.  Wright's  conclusion  as  to  "  the  condition  of  the 
English  peasant  or  villan  during  the  12th,  13th,  and  14th  cen 
turies  "  may  be  exaggerated,  yet  much  truth  in  it  there  must  be : 

Tied  to  the  ground  on  which  he  was  born  in  a  state  of  galling 
bondage,  exposed  to  daily  insult  and  oppression,  he  served  a  master 
who  was  a  stranger  to  him.  both  by  blood  and  language.  The  object 
of  his  lord's  extortions,  frequently  plundered  with  impunity,  and 
heavily  taxed  by  the  king,  he  received  in  return  only  an  imperfect 
and  precarious  security  for  his  person  or  his  property.  The  villan 
was  virtually  an  outlaw  ;  he  could  not  legally  inherit  or  hold  "  lord 
ship,"  and  he  could  bring  no  action,  and,  as  it  appears,  give  no  testi 
mony  in  a  court  of  law.  He  was  not  even  capable  of  giving  educa 
tion  to  his  children,  or  of  putting  them  to  a  trade,  unless  he  had 
previously  been  able  to  obtain  or  purchase  their  freedom,  which 
depended  on  his  own  pecuniary  means,  and  on  the  will  and  caprice 
of  the  lord  of  the  soil. 

All  Norman  barons  were  not  brutes  of  the  Ivo  Taillebois  2 
type,  but  I  look  on  it  as  certain  that  the  bitter  cry  of  the  villans 
which  reaches  us  from  the  pages  of  the  old  chroniclers  and 
writers  is  not  a  mere  bit  of  rhetoric,  but  speaks  what  the  villans 
and  poor  really  suffered  and  felt. 

I  also  look  to  the  generations  immediately  succeeding  the 
Conquest  for  the  growth  of  the  legal  view  of  villanage  and  its 
consequences  which  is  stated  by  Littleton  (ab.  1480  A.D.)  and 

1  On  the  property  needed  for  a  Nor-  and   as    the   Chronicle    declares,   "  he 
man  villan  to  marry  on,  see  the  tract  twisted,  crashed,  tortured,  tore,  impri- 
De  V  Oustillement  au  Villain  (xiiie  siecle)  soned  and  excruciated  them."     See  also 
Paris  1863.  Henry    of    Huntingdon's    account    of 

2  He  was  one  of  the  most  cruel  and  Robert  de  Belesme,  Earl  of  Shropshire, 
hateful   scoundrels   who    ever    defaced  "  He  preferred  the  slaughter  of  his  cap- 
God's   earth.      He   used   to  make  the  tives  to  their  ransom.     He  tore  out  the 
poor  Saxons  serve  him  on  bended  knee,^  eyes  of  his  own  children,  when  in  sport 
and  then  in  requital  burned  their  houses,  they  hid  their  faces  under  his  cloak, 
drowned  their  cattle,  and  set  his  bull-  He  impaled  persons  of  both  sexes  on 
dogs  to  torment  them.    With  diabolical  stakes.     To  butcher  men  in  the  most 
cruelty  he  made  them  incapable  of  work  horrible  manner  was  to  him  an  agree- 
by  breaking  their  limbs  and  backs ; —  able  feast."     (Farrar.} 


xlvi  ON  "BONDMAN.' 

Coke,  among  others,  from  Bracton,  Fleta,  &c.  and  which  justi 
fied  any  amount  of  rapacity  and  exaction  on  the  part  of  the 
feudal  superior.  There  were  two  classes  of  villans,  1.  regardant, 
attached  to  the  soil  of  a  manor,  and  sold  with  it  like  a  cowshed 
or  an  ox,  but  seemingly  not  liable  to  be  removed  from  it,  though 
Littleton's  words  allow  the  removal ;  2.  in  gross,  landless,  and 
attached  to  the  person  of  a  lord,  and  saleable  or  grantable  to 
another  lord,  like  a  chattel. 

Littleton  translated  (ed.  1813).  §  181.  Also  there  is  a  villein  re 
gardant,  and  a  villein  in  gross.  A  villein  regardant  is,  as  if  a  man 
be  seised  of  a  manor  to  which  a  villein  is  regardant,  and  he  which 
is  seised  of  the  said  manor,  or  they  whose  estate  be  both  in  the 
same  manor,  have  been  seised  of  the  villein  and  of  his  ancestors 
as  villeins  and  neifs  1  regardant  to  the  same  manor,  time  out  of 
memory  of  man.  And  villein  in  gross  is  where  a  man  is  seised  of 
a  manor,  whereunto  a  villein  is  regardant,  and  granteth  the  same 
villein  by  his  deed  to  another ;  then  he  is  a  villein  in  gross,  and  not 
regardant. 

§  172.  Tenure  in  villenage,  is  most  properly  when  a  villein 
holdeth  of  his  lord,  to  whom  he  is  a  villein,  certain  lands  or  tene 
ments  according  to  the  custom  of  the  manor,  or  otherwise  at  the 
will  of  his  lord,  and  to  do  his  lord  villein  service,  as  to  carry  and 
recarry  the  dung  of  his  lord  out  of  the  city,  or  out  of  his  lord's 
manor,  unto  the  land  of  his  lord,  and  to  spread  the  same  upon  the 
land,  and  such  like. 

Or  as  Coke  puts  it,  fol.  120  b. 

He  is  called  regardant  to  the  mannour,  because  he  Lad  the 
charge  to  do  all  base  or  villenous  services  within  the  same,  and  to 
gard  and  keepe  the  same  from  all  filthie  or  loathsome  things  that 
might  annoy  it :  and  his  service  is  not  certaine,  but  he  must  have 
regard  to  that  which  is  commanded  unto  him.  And  therefore  he 
is  called  regardant,  a  quo  prcestandwrn  servitium  incertum  et  inde- 
terminatum,  ubi  scire  non  potuit  vespere  quote  servitium  fieri  debet 
mane,  viz.  ubi  quis  facere  tenetur  quicquid  ei  prceceptum  fuerit 
(Bract,  li.  2,  fo.  26,  Mir.  ca.  2,  sect.  12)  as  before  hath  beene  ob 
served  (vid.  sect.  84). 

He  says  also  at  fol.  121  b. 

Things  incorporeall  which  lye  in  grant,  as  advowsons,  villeins, 
commons,  and  the  like,  many  be  appendant  to  things  corporeall, 
as  a  mannour,  house,  or  lands.  * 

As  illustrations  of  the  truth  and  the  working  of  these  legal 
1  A  woman  which  is  villein  is  called  a  neif,  §  186. 


ON    "  BONDMAN."  xlvii 

doctrines,  take  the  following  instances  out  of  many.  About 
1250  A.D.,  says  Mr.  Wright  in  Archccol.  vol.  xxx,  quoting 
Madox's  Formulare  Anglicanum  318-418, 

The  abbot  and  convent  of  Bruerne  sold  "  Hugh  the  shepherd, 
their  naif  or  villan  of  Certelle,  with  all  his  chattels  and  all  his 
progeny,  for  4s.  sterling ;  "  and  the  abbot  bought  of  Matilda,  relict 
of  John  the  physician,  for  20s.,  "  Richard,  son  of  William  de 
Estende  of  Linham,  her  villan,  with  all  his  chattels  and  all  his 
progeny ;  "  and  for  half  a  mark  of  silver,  a  villan  of  Philip  de 
Mandeville  "  with  all  his  chattels  and  all  his  progeny." 
:  Early  in  Henry  III.  (1216-72  A.D.  his  reign)  Walter  de  Beau- 
champ  granted  by  charter  "  all  the  land  which  Richard  de  Grafton 
held  of  him,  and  Richard  himself,  with  all  his  offspring."  .  .  In 
1317  Roger  de  Felton  gave  to  Geoffry  Foune  certain  lands,  tene 
ments  &c.  in  the  town  and  territory  of  Glanton,  "  with  all  his 
villans  in  the  same  town,  and  with  their  chattels  and  offspring." 

We  may  also  note  the  dictum  of  dowel's  Institutes:  "Villaines 
are  not  to  marry  without  consent  of  their  patrons." — -W.  G.'s 
translation,  1651,  p.  24. 

But  the  sharpest  pinch  of  the  matter  lay  in  the  theory — and 
practice  often,  I  do  not  doubt — that  all  the  villan's  goods  were  his 
lord's,1  that  whatever  the  lord  took  from  him,  he  had  no  remedy 
against  the  lord  for. 

Sect.  189,  fol.  123  &.  Also,  every  villein  is  able  and  free  to  sue  all 
manner  of  actions  against  everie  person,  except  against  his  lord,  to 
whom  he  is  villeine. 

On  which  Coke  says  : 

For  a  villeine  shall  not  have  an  appeale  of  robberie  against  his 
lord,  for  that  he  may  lawfully  take  the  goods  of  the  villeine  as  his 
own  (18  Edw.  3,  32  ;  11  Hen.  4,  93  ;  1  Hen.  4,  6 ;  29  Hen.  6,  tit. 
Coron.  17).  And  there  is  no  diversitie  herein,  whether  he  be  a 
vilein  regardant  or  in  grosse,  although  some  have  said  the  contrary. 

And  look  at  what  early  book  you  will, — Homilies,  Political 
Songs,  Robert  of  Brunne 2,  Chaucer,  Gower,  &c. — if  it  touches 
the  subject  at  all,  you  are  sure  to  find  the  lords'  and  their 
stewards'  arbitrary  extortions  complained  of  and  reproved. 

Before  quitting  this  branch  of  the  subject  it  may  be  well  to 
quote  on  it  the  words  of  the  editor  of  Domesday,  Sir  Henry 

1  Cp.  the   extract   from   Chaucer,  p.  2  See  the  quotation  from  his  Hand- 

554-5  below.  lyng  Synne  below. 


xlviii 

Ellis.  After  a  longish  quotation  from  Blackstone's  Commentaries 
upon  the  villani,  he  says  (General  Introduction  to  Domesday 
Book,  vol.  i.  p.  80) : 

There  are,  however,  numerous  entries  in  the  Domesday  Survey 
which  indicate  the  Villani  of  that  period  to  have  been  very  different 
from  Bondmen.  They  appear  to  have  answered  to  the  Saxon 
Ceorls,  while  the  Servi  answered  to  the  Deowas  or  Esnen.  By  a 
degradation  of  the  Ceorls  and  an  improvement  in  the  state  of  the 
Esnen,  the  two  classes  were  brought  gradually  nearer  together,  till 
at  last  the  military  oppression  of  the  Normans  thrusting  down  all 
degrees  of  tenants  and  servants  into  one  common  slavery,  or  at 
least  into  strict  dependance,  one  name  was  adopted  for  both  of  them 
as  a  generic  term,  that  of  Villeins  regardant. 

The  next  questions  are,  how  long  were  the  words  bonde  and 
bondman  used  for  the  villan  class ;  and  when  did  their  bondage 
cease ;  or  at  least,  did  it  continue,  and  if  so,  with  what  amelior 
ation  did  it  continue,  up  to  the  time  when  our  ballad  may  be 
supposed  to  have  been  written  ? 

As  the  names  require  extracts,  the  two  questions  may  be 
treated  together. 

Archdeacon  Hale,  writing  of  the  land  and  villans  of  the 
Priory  of  St.  Mary's,  Worcester,  in  or  about  1240  A.D.  says: 

The  quantity  of  land  in  villenage  in  each  manor  being  fixed,  and 
the  quantity  of  labour  due  from  it  fixed  also,  it  follows  that  the 
lords  of  manors  were  not  arbitrary  masters  who  had  unlimited 
power  over  the  person  and  property  of  these  tenants.  There  is, 
however,  too  much  reason  to  believe  that,  taking  into  account  the 
labour  of  various  kinds  to  which  the  holder  of  a  small  quantity  of 
villan  land  was  liable,  he  paid  what  was  equivalent  to  a  high  rent. 
His  position  as  a  holder  of  land,  which  would  descend  to  his  family, 
was  superior  to  that  of  the  modern  labourer  ;  and  yet  he  might  not 
be  better  off  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view.  His  place  in  society 
was  marked  also  by  the  obligation  to  give  "  Thac  et  Thol,  auxilium 
et  merchet,  et  in  obitu  melius  catallum."  (Thac  was  "  Pig-money, 
a  payment  made  by  the  villans  to  the  lord  in  the  autumn  for 
every  pig  (the  sows  excepted) ,  of  a  year  old  one  penny,  and  under  the 
year  a  halfpenny.  Thol,  the  Penny  paid  by  the  villans  for  licence 
to  sell  a  horse  or  ox."  Hale,  p.  xx,  xli.  On  Thol,  see -also  p.  lii.) 

This  fixity  of  rent,  and  Professor  Kogers's  pleasant  view  of 
things,  make  one  side  of  the  question ;  the  legal  power  of  the 
lord  over  all  his  villan's  property,  and  the  exactions  out  of  him 
complained  of  by  preachers,  poets,  and  writers,  the  other. 

In   Layamon  the   word    bonde   is    used  once,   in   the   de- 


ON    "BONDMAN." 

scription    of   the  treacherous    slaughter    of  Vortiger    and    his 
companions  by  Hengest  and  his  : 

Earlier  text,  1200-20.  Later  text,  bef.  1300. 

J>er  wes  of  Salesburi  J>ar  was  a  bond  of  Salusburi, 

an  oht  bonde  icumen ;  )>at  bar  on  his  honde 

senne  muchelne  msein  clubbe  ane  mochele  club, 

he  bar  on  his  rugge.  for  to  breke  stones. 

The  earlier  text  Sir  F.  Madden  translates : 
There  was  a  bold  churl  *  of  Salisbury  come ;  lie  bore  on  his  back 
a  great  strong  club. 

In  one  of  a  series  of  interesting  articles  on  the  "  Rights, 
Disabilities,  and  Wages  of  the  Ancient  English  Peasantry,"  in 
the  Law  Magazine  and  Review,  New  Series,  xi.  259,  &c.,  I  find 
at  p.  263,  under  the  date  of  1279  A.D. 

At  the  same  place  [Mollond  at  Castle  Camps,  in  the  south-eastern 
corner  of  Cambridgeshire]  there  were  several  [27]  tenants,  [four  of 
whom  are  women,]  described  as  llondi,  bondmen.2  One  of  them  [i.e. 
each,  except  12  who  held  in  couples]  held  16  acres  of  land  in  villen- 
age.  It  does  not  appear  that  he  paid  any  mail  or  gable.  He  re 
turned  a  goose  and  a  hen,  worth  3d.,  20  eggs  worth  -|d.,  and  a 
quarter  of  oats  worth  12d.  He  worked  for  the  lord  twice  a  week 
from  Michaelmas  to  Pentecost,  and  thrice  a  week  from  Pentecost  to 
Michaelmas,  and  ploughed  nine  acres  in  the  year.  It  is  plain  that 
tliis  man  was  an  operative  tenant.3 

Havelok  the  Dane  comes  next,  and  in  it  the  bondman  is  the 
peasant  or  ploughman: 

Thider  komen  bothe  stronge  and  wayke  ; 

Thider  komen  lesse  and  more, 

That  in  the  borw  thanne  weren  thore  ; 

Champiouns,  and  starke  laddes, 

1  ondemen  with  here  gaddes, 

Als  he  comen  fro  the  plow  ; 

There  was  sembling  inow  : 

(ed.  Madden,  p.  39, 1.  1012-1018.) 

Another  drem  dremede  me  ek, 
That  ich  fley  over  the  salte  se 
Til  Engeland,  and  al  with  me 
That  euere  was  in  Denemark  lyues, 


1  Ceorl  is  used  in  the  book  in  the  gallinaw,  &  valewt  iij  d. ;  xx.  ova  qtia 

general  sense  of  man.  valent   obolum   [£d.],   &  j   qu&rterium 

*  ?  Bondes,  who  might  be  freemen.  aven«  quod  valet  xijd.,  &  facit  a  festo 

They  are  given  between  the  Customary  Sancti  Michoelis  usqwc  Pentecostam,  etc. 

Tenants  and  the  Cottars.  —2   Hundred  Bolls  (ed.    1818),   425, 

8  Bondi.    Hugo  Euge  tenet  xvi.  amis  col.  1. 
terre  in  villenagio,  &  dat  j  ancam  et  j 

VOL.  II.  d 


1  ON  "BONDMAN." 

But  bondemen,  and  here  wines, 
And  that  ich  kom  til  Engelond, 
Al  closede  it  intil  min  bond, 
And  Goldeboro  y  gaf  the  : — 

(The  same,  p.  50, 1.  1304-1311.) 

In  the  Song  of  the  Husbandman,  of  the  reign  of  Edward  I. 
(1272-1307  A.D.)  in  Wright's  Political  Songs,  Camden  Soc. 
p.  150,  bonde  represents  the  "peasant"  class. 

Thus  me  pileth  the  pore,  and  pyketh  ful  clene, 

The  ryche  raymeth  withouten  eny  ryht ; 
Ar  londes  and  ar  leodes  liggeth  fol  lene, 

Thorh  b[i]ddyng  of  baylyfs  such  harm  heth  hight. 
Meni  of  religione  we  halt  hem  ful  hene, 

Baroun  and  bonde,  the  clerc  and  the  knyght. 

(MS.  Harl.  2253,  leaf  64.) 

In  1297,  taking  that  as  Robert  of  Gloucester's  date,  he  says 
of  William  the  Conqueror  and  his  '  high  men : ' 

Hii  to-draweth  ]?e  sely  bonde  men,  as  wolde  hem  hulde  ywys. — 
ii.  370. 

which  the  latter  reading  gives  as 

Hii  torment eth  hure  tenauntes,  as  hulde  hem  they  wolde. 

Again  in  one  of  the  Lives  of  Saints,  said  to  have  been  written 
by  Robert  of  Gloucester,  is  this  passage : 

If  a  bondeman  hadde  a  sone :  to  clergie  idrawe, 

He  ne  scholde,  without  his  loverdes  leve :  not  icrouned  beo. 

(ab.  1300-10  A.D.  Life  of  BeJcet,  1.  552.) 

Robert  of  Brunne,  in  the  lifelike  sketch  which  he  gives  us  of 
the  England — or,  at  least,  the  Lincolnshire — of  1303,  as  he 
tells  the  men  of  his  day  of  their  sins,  of  course  does  not  forget 
the  bondman  and  his  lord,  of  course  remembers  the  poor : 

Blessyd  be  alle  poore  men, 
For  God  almyjty  loue>  >em. 

(Handling  Synne,  p.  180,  1.  6741-2.) 

One  tale  that  he  tells  shows  a  certain  independence  on  the 
part  of  a  bondman,  and  I  therefore  take  that  first,  from  the 
Handling  Synne,  p.  269-70.  In  a  Norfolk  village  a  knight's 
house  and  homestead  (manor)  were  near  the  churchyard, 
into  which  his  herdsmen  let  his  cattle,  and  they  defiled  the 
graves.  A  bonde  man  saw  that,  was  woe  that  the  beasts 
should  there  go,  went  to  the  lord,  and  said,  "  Lord,  your-  herds 
men  do  wrong  to  let  your  beasts  defile  these  graves.  Where 


ON  "BONDMAN."  li 

men's  bones  lie,  beasts  should  do  no  nastiness."  The  Lord's 
answer  was  "some  what  vile,"  "A  pretty  thing  indeed  to  honour 
such  churls'  bones !  What  honour  need  men  pay  to  such  churls' 
livid  bodies?"  And  then  the  bonde-man  said  him  words  full 
well  together  laid : 

The  lord  that  made  of  earth-e,  earls, 
Of  the  same  earth  made  he  churls : 
Earles  might,  and  lordes  stut,  (strut) 
As  churles  shall  in  earth  be  put, 
Earles,  churles,  all  at  ones ;  (once) 
Shall  none  know  your,  from  our,  bones. 

Which  reproof  the  lord  took  in  good  part  (few  would  have 
done  so,  says  Robert  of  Brunne  ] ),  and  promised  that  his  beasts 
should  no  more  break  into  the  churchyard. 

But  still  there  is  evidence  enough  in  the  Handlyng  Synne 
that  if  a  lord  wanted  a  bondman's  wife  or  daughter,  he  would 
not  only  carry  her  off,  but  brag  of  it  afterwards  (p.  231,  1. 
7420-7) ;  and  as  to  the  treatment  of  the  poor  by  their  superiors, 
Robert  of  Brunne  asks — he  is  not  here  translating  Wadington — 

Lord,  how  shul  )>ese  robbers  fare, 

pat  }?e  pore  pepyl  pelyn  ful  bare, — 

Erles,  knygt&s,  and  barouns 

And  ou]?er  lordynges  of  tounnes, 

Justyses,  shryues  and  baylyuys, 

pat  j>e  lawes  alle  to-ryues, 

And  >e  pore  men  alle  to-pyle  ? 

To  ryche  men  do  J>ey  but  as  J>ey  wylle. — 

(p.  212,  1.  6790-7.) 

0 

He  goes  on  denouncing  them  who  "  pyle  and  bete  many  pore 
men,"  and  contrasts  their  conduct  with  that  of  Dives  to  Lazarus, 
whom  Dives  did  not  rob  of  gold  or  fee, 

He  dyde  but  lete  an  hounde  hym  to : 
Ye  ryche  men,  weyl  wers  30  do ! 
Ye  wyl  noun  houndes  to  hem  lete, 
But,  30  self,  hem  sle  and  bete. 
He  ne  dyde  but  wernede  hym  of  hys  mete ; 
And  30  robbe  al  bat  30  mow  gete. 
Ye  are  as  Dyues  >at  wyl  naghte  3gue ; 
And  wers :  for  30  robbe  >at  >ey  [the  poor]  shulde  by  lyue. 
(Handlyng  Synne,  p.  213, 1.  6812-19.) 

In  a  previous  passage  the  lords'   arbitrary  exactions  from 

1  >yr  are  but  fewe  lordes  now  Lordynges, — >yr  are  ynow  of  J>o ; 

hat  turne  a  wrde  so  wel  to  prow ;  Of  gentyl   men,  )>yr  are   but  fo 

But  who  seyj>  hem  any  sky  lie,  [few]. 

Mysseye  a3en  fouly  \>QJ  wylle. 

d2 


lii  ON 

men  in  bondage — or  vileynage  as  Wadington  has  it — are  ex 
pressly  mentioned : 

And  3yf  a  lorde  of  a  tounne 

Robbe  his  men  oute  of  resoune, 

)>oghe  hyt  be  yn  bondage, 

Ajens  ry3t  he  doj>e  outrage. 

He  shal  so  take  j>at  he  [the  bondman]  may  lyue, 

And  as  lawe  of  londe  wyl  for^yue  ; 

For  3yf  he  take  ouer  mesure, 

Lytyl  tyme  shal  hyt  dure. 

)>oghe  God  haue  jeue  J>e  seynorye, 

He  3af  hym  no  leue  to  do  robborye ; 

For  god  haj>  ordeyned  al  mennys  state, 

How  to  lyue,  and  yn  what  gate  ; 

And  J>o3t  he  3yue  one  ouer  o)>er  my3t, 

He  wyl  J>at  he  do  hym  but  ry3t. 

J?ys  ys  \>e  ry3t  of  Goddys  lokyng  : 

3elde  euery  man  hys  owne  J>yng. 

But  God  takej)  euermore  veniaunce 

Of  lordys,  for  swych  myschaunce, 

For  swych  robbery  j?at  )>ey  make, 

J>at  ofte  of  \>e  poure  men  take. 

He  then  tells  a  tale  of  what  a  Knight  suffered  in  Purgatory 
(or  hell)  fire,  for  robbing  a  poor  man  of  a  cloth,  and  winds 
up  with  the  moral : 

Certys  J>efte  ry;?t  wykkede  ys  .  .  . 

Namly l  pore  men  for  to  pele 

Or  robbe  or  bete  wyj?-oute  skyle.2 

The  next  reference  to  the  word  in  Stratmann's  Dictionary  is 
to  William  qnd  the  Werwolf,  (better,  William  of  Palerne: 
E.  E.  Text  Soc.  1868,  Extra  Series,)  of  ab.  1340  A.D.  L  216. 

do  quickliche  crie  )>urth  eche  cuwtre  of  }n  king-riche 
)>at  barourcs  burgeys  &  bonde 3  &  alle  o>er  burnes 
J>at  mowe  wi3tly  in  any  wise  walken  a-boute 
}>at  )>ei  wende  wi3tly  as  wide  as  J>i  reaume. 

(William  and  Werwolf,  p.  77,  ed.  Madden.) 

In  William  of  Malvern's 4  Vision  of  Piers  Ploughman,  about 
1362  A.D.  we  have: 


1  especially.  4  Mr.  Hales's  name  for  the  author  of 

2  reason.  the    Vision,   who    is   sometimes  called 

3  Bonde,  n.  S.  Bondsmen,  villains ;  as  Langland.    As  there  is  no  real  evidence 
opposed   to  the   orders  of  barons  and  for   the   name  Langland,  I  prefer  the 
burgesses,  77. — Glossary  to  the  above.  vaguer  title  William  of  Malvern,  though 
But  the  bonde  are  still  one  of  the  three  Malvern  is  only  mentioned  in  the  first 
principal  orders  of  men,  as  shown  by  of  the  poems  of  which   the   Vision  is 
the  "  other  burnes  "  who  are  not  worth  composed. 

specifying. — Skeat. 


ON    "  BONDMAN. 


liii 


Barouns  and  Burgeis  •  and  Bonde-men  also 
I  sau3  in  >at  Semble.— (p.  6, 1.  90,  ed.  Skeat.) 

In  \V light's  edition  of  the  Vision,  i.  88,  1.  2859  is — 

And  as  a  bonde-man  of  his  bacon  his  berde  was  bidraveled. 

And  part  of  the  knight's  duty  is — 

And  misbeode  J>ou  not  Jn  bondemen  •  }>e  beter  £ou  schalt  spede. 

(Pas.  vii.  1.  45,  Vernon  Text,  ed.  Skeat,  p.  76.) 

In  the  third  text  of  the  Vision  we  read — 

Bondmen  and  bastardes  •  and  beggers  children, 

These  bylongeth  to  labour  •  and  lordes  children  sholde  serven, 

Bothe  God  and  good  men  •  as  here  degree  asketh 

And  sith,  bondemcnne  barnes  •  han  be  made  bisshopes, 
And  barnes  bastardes  •  han  ben  archidekenes  ; 
And  sopers  and  here  sones  •  for  selver  han  be  knyghtes, 
And  lordene  sones  here  laboreres. — (ab.  1380.    Vision  of  Piers  Plowman. 

Whitaker's  text.     Passus  Sextus.) 

Mr.  Skeat  says  that  the  various  readings  in  the  MSS.  of  the 
Vision  show  that  bondage  or  bondages  was  used  for  bonde 
men,  and  that  bonde  is  thus  connected  with  the  verb  to  bind. 
Chaucer  uses  bondemen  and  bondefolk  l  as  the  equivalents  of 
cherls  and  thralles  in  his  Persones  Tale,  de  Avaritia  (p.  282  ed. 
Wright,  quoted  below,  p.  554-5),  while  in  The  Frere's  Tale  the 
use  is  of  one  bound  : 

Disposith  youre  hertes  to  withstonde 

The  fend,  that  wolde  make  yow  thral  and  bonde* 

The  year  1394,  or  thereabouts,  gives  us  that  wonderful 
picture  of  a  bondeman  or  ploughman  whom  its  painter  saw, 


1  And  fortherover,  ther  as  the  lawe 
sayth,  that  temporel  goodes  of  bondefolk 
been  the  goodes  of  her  lordes ;  ye,  that 
is  to  understonde,  the  goodes   of    the 
imperour,  to  defende  hem  in  here  righto, 
beut  not  to  robbe  hem  ne  to  rcve  hem. 

2  In  the  Elegy  on  the  Death  of  King 
Edward    III.   the    phrase   "bide    her 
bonde"   is  glossed   "remain  as    their 
captive." 

This  goode   schip,   I  may  remene 
[so] 

To  the  Chilvalrye  of  this  londe, 
Sum  time  thei  counted  nou3t  a  bene. 

Beo  al  Ffrance  Ich  understonde 


Thei  tok  &  slou3  hem  with  heore 

honde 
The  power  of  Ffrance  both  smal 

and  grete, 
And  brou3t  ther  Kyng  hider  to  bide 

her  bonde. 
And  nou  ri3t  sone  hit  [the  ship] 

is  for3ete. 

Myrc's  use  of  bonde  is  this: 
Fyrst  >ow  moste  >ys  mynne, 
What  he  ys  >at  doth  >e  synne, 
WheJ>er  hyt  be  heo  or  he, 
Yonge  or  olde,  bonde,  or  fre, 
Pore  or  ryche,  or  in  ofiys. 

(Ab.  1430,  Myrc,  Instructions  for 
Parish  Priests,  p.  47.) 


liv  ON    "BONDMAN." 

and  which  will   not  be  out  of  the  mind  of  anyone  who  has 
studied  it : 

And  as  y  wente  be  >e  waie  •  wepynge  for  sorowe, 

[I]  sei}  a  sely  man  me  by  •  opon  \>Q  plow  hongen. 

His  cote  was  of  a  cloute  •  J>at  cary  was  y-called, 

His  hod  was  full  of  holes  •  &  his  heer  oute, 

Wi>  his  knopped  schon  •  clouted  full  bykke ; 

His  ton  toteden  out  •  as  he  )>e  londe  treddede, 

His  hosen  ouerhongen  his  hokschynes  •  on  eueriche  a  side, 

Al  beslombred  in  fen  •  as  he  >e  plow  folwede ; 

Twey  myteynes,  as  mete  •  maad  all  of  cloutes ; 

pe  fyngers  weren  for-werd  •  &  ful  of  fen  honged. 

pis  whit  waselede  in  >e  [fen]  •  almost  to  ]>e  ancle, 

Foure  roberen  hym  by-forn  •  >at  feble  were  [worsen]  ; 

Men  my3te  reken  ich  a  ryb  •  so  reufull  J>ey  weren. 

His  wijf  walked  him  wi>  •  wi>  a  longe  gode, 

In  a  cutted  cote  •  cutted  full  heyse, 

Wrapped  in  a  wynwe  schete  •  to  weren  hire  fro  weders,1 

Barfote  on  )>e  bare  ijs  *  \>ai  J>e  blod  folwede. 

And  at  J>e  londes  ende  laye  •  a  litell  crom-bolle, 

And  J>mm  lay  a  litell  childe  •  lapped  in  cloutes, 

And  tweyne  of  tweie  3eres  olde  •  opon  a-no  \>er  syde, 

And  alle  J>ey  songen  o  songe  •  J?at  sorwe  was  to  heren ; 

pey  crieden  alle  o  cry  •  a  carefull  note. 

(Pierce  the  Ploughman's  Crede,  1.  420-441,  ed.  Skeat,  1867.) 

Those  last  two  lines  sum  up  for  me  the  English  history  of  the 
English  poor  (as  has  been  said  elsewhere),  it  was  "  full  of 
care." 

Frater  Galfridus,  about  1440,  has  in  the  Promptorium 

Bonde,  as  a  man  or  woman,  Servus,  serva. 

Bondman  .  Servus,  nativus  [neif.] 

Bondschepe  .  Nativitas :  but  Bondage  .  Servitus. 

That  the  lord's  power  over  his  bondmen  was  a  reality,  and 
that  he  «  frequently  took  advantage  of  his  power  to  tyrannize, 
is  proved  by  the  example  of  Sir  Simon  Burley,  the  tutor  of 
Kichard  II.,  who  seized  forcibly  an  industrious  artizan  at 
Gravesend,  on  the  plea  of  his  being  his  escaped  bondsman,  and, 
when  his  exorbitant  demand  was  refused,  threw  him  into  the 
prison  of  Rochester  Castle."- — (Wright  in  Archceol.  xxx.  235.) 
And  that  the  Lord's  power  over  his  bondman  existed  into  the 
16th  century  is  shown  by  the  following  extracts.2 

1  It  is  a  wyues  occupation,  to  wynowe  hay,  come,  and  suche  other.     ?  1523. 

all  mannc r  of  cornes,  to  make  malte,  to  — Fitzherbert's  Husbandry,   ed.    1767, 

washe  and  wrynge,  to  make  heye,  shere  p.  92. 

come,  and  in  time  of  nede  to  helpe  her  2  Mr.  Wright  says,    "  We  can  trace 

husbande  to  fyll  the  mucke-wayne  or  these  charters  of  manumission  [of  vil- 

dounge-carte,  dryue  the  ploughe,  to  loode  lans]  down  to  a  very  late  period.     In  2 


ON  "BONDMAN."  Iv 

In  1519  among  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  payments  in  Prof. 
Brewer's  Calendar,  iii.,  Pt.  i.  p.  498,  is — 

25  March,  to  Walter  Parker,  40s£,  "  restored  to  him  for  a  fine  by 
him  made  to  me,  for  that  he  was  my  bondman,  and  made  free  during 
his  life,  for  that  I  gave  him  a  patent." 

In  1521  on 

"  The  Duke's  Lands  .  .  at  Caurs  (in  Wales)  are  "  Many  bondmen 
both  rich  and  poor. — ib.  p.  509. 

In  1523  (?),  Fitzherbert  says  : 

Customary  tenauntes/  are  those  that  holde  their  landes  of  their 
lorde  by  copye  of  courte  role/  after  the  custome  of  the  manere.  And 
there  may  be  many  tenauntes  with-in  the  same  manere  y*  have  no 
copyes/  and  yet  holde  be  lyke  custome  and  seruyce  at  the  wyll  of  the 
lorde.  and  in  myne  opinyon/  it  began  soone  after  the  conquest/  whan 
Wyllyam  Conquerour  had  conquered  this  realme/  he  rewarded  all 
those  that  came  with  hym  in  his  voyage  royall  accordyng  to  their 
degre.  And  to  honourable  men  he  gaue/  lordshippes/  maners/  lawdes/ 
and  tenementes/  with  all  the  inhabytauwtes/  men  and  women  dwell- 
yng  in  the  same/  to  do  with  them  at  their  pleasure.  And  those 
honourable  men  thought  y*  they  must  nedes  haue  seruauntes  and 
tenauwtes/  and  their  landes  occupyed  with  tyllage.  Wherfore  they 
pardoned  the  inhabytauntes  of  their  lyues/  and  caused  them  to  do 
all  maner  of  seruyce  that  was  to  be  done/  were  it  neuer  so  vyle  /  and 
caused  them  to  occupy  e  their  landes  and  tenementes  in  tyllage  and 
toke  of  them  suche  rentes/  customes/  and  seruyces/  as  it  pleased 
them  to  haue.  And  also  toke  all  their  goodes  &  catell  at  all  tymcs 
at  their  pleasure/  and  called  them  their  bonde  men.  and  sythe  that 
tyme/  many  noble  men  bothe  spirytuall  and  temporall,  of  their  godly 
disposycion/  haue  made  to  dyuers  of  the  sayd  bonde  men  manu 
missions,  and  graunted  them  fredome  and  lybertie.  and  set  to  them 
their  landes  and  tenemewtes  to  occupy/  after  dyuers  maners  of  rentes/ 
customes/  and  seruyces,  the  whiche  is  vsed  in  dyuers  places  vnto  this 
daye.  how  be  it  in  some  places  the  bonde  men  contynue  as  yet/  the 
whiche  me  semeth  is  the  grettest  inconuenyent  that  nowe  is  suffred 
by  the  lawe.  That  is,  to  haue  any  christen  man  bonden  to  another/ 
and  to  haue  the  rule  of  his  body/  landes  and  goodes/  that  his  wife 
chyldren  and  seruauntes  have  laboured/  for  all  their  lyfe  tyme/  to  be 
so  taken/  lyke  as  and  it  were  extorcion  or  bribery.  And  many  tymes 

Eic.  II.,  just  before  the  peasants'  insur-  we  have  a  charter  of  affranchisement 

rection,    John    Wyard    or    '  Alspach  '  by  the  priory  of  Beauvalle  in  6  Hen.  V. 

manumits  a  female  villan,  and  gives  her,  A..D.  1419,  and  another  by  George  Nevile, 

with  her  liberty,  her  goods  and  chattels,  lord  Bergevenny,  as  late  as  2  Hen.  VIII., 

and  the  liberty  of  all  her  offspring  :  and  A.D.  1511." 


Ivi  ON 

by  colour  therof/  tliere  be  many  fre  men  taken  as  bonde  men/and 
their  landes  and  goodes  taken  fro  them/  so  that  they  shall  not  be 
able  to  sue  for  remedy/  to  prove  them  selfe  fre  of  blode.  And  that 
is  moost  commenly/  where  the  fre  men  have  the  same  name  as  the 
londe  men  haue/  or  that  his  auncesters  of  whome  he  is  comen/  was 
mamimised  before  his  byrthe.  In  suehe  cause  there  can  nat  be  to 
great  a  punysshement.  for  as  me  semeth  there  shulde  no  man  be 
bonde  but  to  god/  and  to  his  king  and  prince  ouer  hym.  Quia  deus 
non  facit  exceptionem  personarum.  For  god  maketh  no  excepcyon 
of  any  person. — Fitzherbert's  Boke  of  Surveyeng  8f  Improumentes 
Cap.  xiii.  fol.  xxvi. 

I  do  not  carry  these  extracts  further,  because  those  that  have 
been  given — and  they  might  be  ten-folded  with  ease- — suffi 
ciently  prove  the  reality  of  the  hardships  which  the  bondmen 
suffered,  and  that  certain  of  these  hardships  were  in  being  as 
late  as  Fitzherbert's  time,  about  1520.  Vague  talk  that  the 
doctrine  of  the  law-books  was  never  carried  out  in  practice, 
that  monkish  writers  exaggerated  a  molehill  into  a  mountain 
&c.,  will  not  do  in  the  face  of  the  evidence  that  literature 
supplies.  "  Master  Fitzherbarde  "  was  not  a  sentimentalist,  but 
a  practical  horsebreeder,  farmer  and  surveyor,1  and  spoke  of  the 
bondmen's  evils  as  he  would  speak  of  his  broodmares'  ailments. 
There  is  no  need  for  us  then  to  imagine — as  Professor  Kogers 
does,  in  his  very  valuable  and  interesting  History  of  Prices,  i. 
81 — a  cause,  of  which  no  trace  has  come  down  to  us,  for  Wat 
Tyler's  rebellion.  Cause  enough,  and  to  spare,  there  was  in 
the  condition  of  the  men,  if  only  that  shown  in  their  demand 
"  that  we,  our  wives  and  children,  shall  be  free."  Granted  that 
the  students  of  literature  and  charters  alone  get  from  them  too 
dark  a  view  of  the  state  of  the  early  poor, —  as  Mr.  Wright  may 
have  done- — yet  we  must  declare  that  the  student  of  prices  on 
college  lands  alone  gets  a  too  rose-coloured  view,  and  that  the 
wrongs  of  the  bondmen  were  real  and  deep ;  even  Chaucer  and 
Froissart  witness  it. 

On  this  bonde  and.  bondeman  question  I  conclude  then,  though 
with  much  diffidence,  and  acknowledging  the  insufficiency  of  the 
evidence  for  some  points :  1,  that  the  bonde  was  originally  free, 
that  he  was  the  Saxon  ceorl  or  twihind,  with  a  Danish  name ; 
2,  that  if  not  partially  before,  yet  wholly  after,  the  Conquest, 
his  class,  or  the  greater  part  of  it,  became  bondmen  or  villans, 
bond  on  bond-land ;  3,  that  gradually  they  threw  off  their  ser- 

1  It  must  be  a  mistake  to  identify  him  with  Sir  Anthony  Fitzherbert. 


ON  "BONDMAN."  Ivii 

vice  and  signs  of  bondage,  taking  the  first  decided  step  in 
advance  in  Edward  I.'s  time,  the  second  and  more  decided  one 
in  Edward  III.  and  Kichard  II.'s  time  ;  4,  that  in  1520  the 
burden  of  bondage  was  still  heavy.  (It  gradually  disappeared,1 
except  so  far  as  our  present  copyhold  fines  and  heriots  repre 
sent  it.  Slavery  was  abolished  by  a  statute  of  Charles  II. 
The  attempt  to  abolish  it  in  1526  proved  a  vain  one.  Wright.) 
But  our  bondman  was  John  the  Reeve,  though  no  special 
duties  of  his  as  Reeve  are  alluded  to  in  the  Ballad.  On  those 
duties  in  Anglo-Saxon  times  the  reader  may  consult  the 
references  in  Thorpe's  Index  to  the  Ancient  Laws,  vol.  i.,  and 
section  12  of  the  Institutes  of  Polity,  in  vol.  ii.  p.  320-1. 
The  office  of  Reeve  was  one  that  every  villan  was  bound  to 
serve,  and  although  the  Law  Magazine  says  it  was  one  which 
the  villan  rather  declined  and  avoided,2  it  must  have  been 
one  which,  in  later  times  at  least,  helped  to  fill  its  holder's 
pockets.  The  Reeve's  duty  was  to  manage  his  lord's  demesne, 
to  superintend  the  service-tenant's  work  on  it,  to  collect  the 
lord's  dues  and  rent  in  money  and  kind,  and  submit  his  accounts 
yearly  to  the  auditor.  As  the  Sloane  MS.  Boke  of  Curtesye 
says  of  the  greve  or  reve — 

Grauys,  and  baylys  and  parker, 
Schone  come  to  acountes  euery  yero 
Byfore  J?o  auditour  of  >o  lorde  onone, 
put  schulde  be  trew  as  any  stone, 
Yf  he  dose  horn  no  ry3t  lele, 
To  a  baron  of  chekker  >ay  mun  hit  pele. 

(Babecs  Book,  p.  318, 1.  589-94.) 

And  as  William  of  Malvern  savs — 


1  The   name   seems   to    have   lasted  The   late   abridgement  of  Jamieson 

longer  in   Scotland  than  in  England ;  gives    "  Bonday    Warkis,    the    time   a 

see  Jamieson's  Dictionary,   4to,    1825,  tenant  or  vassal  is  bound  to  work  for 

Supplement :  the  proprietor." 

"BONDAGE,  Bonnage,  s.     The  desig-  *  The  chief  incidents  of  base  tenure 

nation  given   to  the  services  due  by  a  which  affected  the  villein's  person  are 

tenant  to  the  proprietor,  or  by  a  cot-  collected  in  one  of  Edward  II.'s  Year- 

tager  to  the  farmer.    [Used  in]  Angus."  books.  (5  Ed.  II.)  They  were, — 1.  The 

"  Another  set  of  payments  consisted  blood  fine,  or  marriage  ransom,;  2.  the 
in  services,  emphatically  called  Bonage  taille  or  tallage,  a  variable  charge,  sup- 
(from  bondage).  And  these  were  ex-  planted  by  regular  taxation,  unless  it  en 
acted  either  in  seed-time,  in  ploughing  dured  under  the  name  of  chevage ;  3.  the 
and  harrowing  the  proprietor's  land, —  obligation  of  undertaking  the  office  of 
or  in  summer,  in  the  carriage  of  his  reeve  or  bailiff,  an  invidious  dignity 
coals,  or  other  fuel ;  and  in  harvest,  in  which  the  villein  rather  declined  and 
cutting  down  his  crop." — Agricultural  avoided.—  Law  Mag.  $  Rev.  xiii.  41. 
Survey  of  Kincardincshire,  p.  213. 


ON    "BONDMAN." 

I  make  Piers  the  Plowman  my  procuratour  and  my  reve, 
And  registrar  to  receyve.1 

Eedde  quod  debes  (v.  ii.  p.  411,  ed.  Wnght). 

And  again — 

Thanne  lough  ther  a  lord,  and  "  by  this  light "  seide, 
"  I  holde  it  right  and  reson,  of  my  reve  to  take 
Al  that  myn  auditour,  or  ellis  my  steward 
Counseileth  me  bi  hir  acounte  and  my  clerkes  writyng. 
With  spiritus  intellectus  thei  seke  the  reves  rolles  ; 
And  with  spiritus  fartitudinis  fecche  it  I  wole  after." 

(Vision,  ii.  423.) 

Need  one  quote  Chaucer's  sketch  of  the  Keeve — 

Wei  cowde  he  kepe  a  gerner  and  a  bynne  ; 
Ther  was  non  auditour  cowde  on  him  wynne. 
Wei  wiste  he  by  the  drought,  and  by  the  reyn, 
The  yeeldyng  of  his  seed,  and  of  his  greyn. 
His  lordes  scheep,  his  neet,  [and]  his  dayerie, 
His  swyn,  his  hors,  his  stoor,  and  his  pultrie, 
Was  holly  in  this  reeves  governynge, 
And  by  his  covenaunt  yaf  the  rekenynge, 
Syn  that  his  lord  was  twenti  yeer  of  age ; 
Ther  couthe  noman  bringe  him  in  arrerage. 
Ther  nas  baillif,  ne  herde,  ne  other  hyne, 
That  they  ne  knewe  his  sleight  and  his  covyne ; 
They  were  adrad  of  him,  as  of  the  deth. 
His  wonyng  was  ful  fair  upon  an  heth  ; 
With  grene  trees  i-schadewed  was  his  place. 
He  cowde  bettre  than  his  lord  purchace. 
Ful  riche  he  was  i-stored  prively, 
His  lord  wel  couthe  he  plese  subtilly, 
To  geve  and  lene  him  of  his  owne  good, 
And  have  a  thank,  a  cote,  and  eek  an  hood. 
In  youthe  he  lerned  hadde  a  good  mester ; 
He  was  a  wel  good  wright,  a  carpenter. 
This  reeve  sat  upon  a  well  good  stot, 
That  was  a  pomely  gray,  and  highte  Scot. 
A  long  surcote  of  pers  uppon  he  hadde, 
And  by  his  side  he  bar  a  rusty  bladde. 

Our  Reeve  too  has  "  a  rusty  bladde,"  rides  a  good  horse,  has  a 
fair  dwelling,  and  is  "ful  riche  istored  prively," but  Hodgkin  Long 
and  Hob  of  the  Lathe  are  "  not  adrad  of  him  as  of  the  deth." 
As  he  was  the  King's  reeve  and  should  have  collected  taxes  2  as 
well  as*  dues  and  rents,3  he  ought  to  have  been  a  good  scribe  and 
summer-up,  but  the  ballad  does  not  read  as  if  he  was.  His 

1  See  the  extract  at  the  end  of  this          3  Toulmin  Smith's  Parish,   p.   506, 
paper,  line  12  from  foot.  refers  to  a  rentcharge  paid  to  the  King's 

2  If  Mr.  Toulmin  Smith  be  right  in  reeve, 
his  view,  p.  557  note  below. 


lix 

enemy  is  not  the  auditor,  of  whom  we  hear  nothing,  but  the 
courtier  or  purveyor  who  could  report  his  wealth  to  the  King1, 
and  get  leave,  or  take  it,  to  put  the  screw  on  him.  He  sells  his 
wheat  (1.  144)  to  get  it  out  of  sight  (?); — money  could  be  more 
easily  hidden ; — and  he  has  a  thousand  pounds  and  some  deal 
more. 

The  supper  of  his  pretended  poverty — bean-bread,  rusty 
bacon,  broth,  lean  salt  beef,  and  sour  ale,  may  well  have  been 
bondman's  food  in  Edward  I.'s  time,  better  than  many  got  in 
Edward  III.'s,  as  William  of  Malvern  shows  (  Vision,  Passus  VII. 
1.  267-82,  ed.  Skeat,  p.  88-9,  text  A) ;  but  could  the  supper  of  his 
actual  wealth,  boar's  head  and  capons,  woodcocks,  venison,  swans, 
conies,  curlews,  crane,  heron,  pigeons,  partridges,  and  sweets  of 
many  kinds,  have  been  ever  Reeve's  food  then  ?  I  trow  not. 
Chaucer's  Frankeleyn  couldn't  have  given  a  better  spread  in 
Richard  II.'s  time,  and  John  Russell's  Franklen  in  Henry  VI.'s 
days  (ab.  1450-60  A.D.,  say,)  hardly  exceeded  it: 

A  Fest  for  a  Franklin. 

"   A   Franklen  may  make  a  feste  Impwberabilltf, 
brawne  with  mustard  is  concordable, 
bakon  scr  ued  with  peson, 

beef  or  moton  stewed  seruysable, 
Boyled  Chykoii  or  capon  agreable, 
convenyent  for  J>e  seson ; 

Hosted  goose  &  pygge  fullc  profitable, 
Capon  /  Bakemete,  or  Custade  Costable, 
when  eggis  &  crayme  be  geson. 

j?erforc  stuffe  of  household  is  behoveable, 
Mortrowes  or  lusselle  ar  delectable 

for  >e  second  course  by  reson. 

Than  veel,  lambe,  kyd,  or  cony, 
Chykon  or  pigeon  rested  tendurly, 

bakemetes  or  dowcettes  with  alle. 

]?en  followyngc  frytowre,  &  a  leche  lovely ; 
suche  seruyse  in  sesouw  is  fulle  semely 

To  smie  wit h  bothe  chambur  &  halle. 

Then  appuls  &  peris  with  spices  delicately 
Aftur  >e  terme  of  )>e  yere  fulle  deynteithly, 
with  bred  and  chese  to  calle. 

Spised  cakes  and  wafurs  worthily 
withe  bragot  &  methe,  >us  men  may  meryly 
plese  welle  bothe  gret  &  smalle." 

(BabcesBook,  p.  170-1.) 


Ix  ON  "BONDMAN." 

Edward  I.'s  order  for  his  own  coronation  feast  was  380  head 
of  cattle,  430  sheep,  450  pigs,  18  wild  boars,  278  flitches  of 
bacon,  and  19,660  capons  and  fowls  (Macfarlane,  Cab.  Hist.  iv. 
11,  referring  to  Rymer).  Only  in  bacon,  boar,  and  capons 
could  the  king  have  come  up  to  his  reeve.  To  what  date 
then  are  we  to  bring  the  ballad  down  ?  I  don't  know,  and, 
if  the  reason  I  have  assigned  for  its  being  tacked  on  to 
Edward  I.  be  the  right  one,  I  don't  care ;  for  the  main 
point  to  me  is  its  connection  with  him.  But  taking  the  ballad 
as  it  stands,  the  mention  of  the  Galliard  in  it,  1.  530,  p.  579, 
shows  that  it  was  recast,  if  not  composed,  after  1541,  when  that 
dance  was  introduced.  Also  the  Northern  forms  baine,  1.  504, 
gauge,  1.  209,  343,  864,  strang,  1.  332,  seile,  1.  502,  ryke,  1.  263, 
farrand,  1.  353,  358,  &c.,  the  present  no-rhymes  of  both  and  lath, 
1.  623-4,  641-2,  arse  and  worse,  1.  668-9,  kneele  and  soule,  1. 
806—7,  &c.,  show  that  our  version  is  an  altered  copy  of  a  Northern 
original,  or  Northern  copy.  I  say  copy,  because  if  lathe  is  the 
Anglo-Saxon  Iceft,  a  division  of  the  county  peculiar  to  Kent, 
the  scene  of  the  ballad  must  have  been  Kent ;  but  Chaucer's  use 
of  the  word  in  its  sense  of  barn,  in  his  Reeve's  Tale — 

Why  nad  thou  put  the  capil  in  the  lathe  ? ! 

and  Brockett's  in  his  Glossary  of  North  Country  Words, 

Lathe  or  Leathe,  a  place  for  storing  hay  and  corn  in  winter — a 
barn. 

saves  us  from  the  necessity  of  supposing  a  double  transformation 
of  the  ballad,  though  this  would  be  authorised  by  the  ascription 
of  it  to  "the  south-west  country"  in  1.  909.  The  Northern 
saint  sworn  by  in  1.  744,  St.  William,  Archbp.  of  York  in  the 
12th  century,  tends  to  confirm  the  Northern  origin,  as  does  the 
"  clerke  out  of  Lancashire  "  who  read  the  roll  that  contained  the 
tale,  1.  8-12. 

1  The  Promptorium  gives  "  Berne  of  speaking  of  the  partition  of  England 

lathe  (or  lathe  P.),  Horreum"  p.  33,  and  into  shires  and  lathes,  says  "Some,  as 

Mr.    Way    says,    "  Lathe,   which    does  it  were  roming,  or  rouing  at  the  name 

not  occur  in   its  proper  place  in  the  Lath,  do  saie  that  it  is  derived  of  a 

Promptorium,    is   possibly  a    word    of  barn,  which  is  called  in  Old  English  a 

Danish   introduction    into   the   eastern  lath,  as  they  coniecture."    "  Horreum  est 

counties,"  Lade,  horreum,  Dan.    Skinner  locus  ubi  reponitur  annona,  a  barne,  a 

observes  that  "  it  was  very  commonly  lathe.     Grangia,  lathe  or  grange. — OE- 

used  in  Lancashire."     At  p.  288  he  also  TUS.     Orreum,  granarium,  lathe." — Vo- 

says  that  Bp.  Kennett  notices  it  also  as  cab.  Roy.  MS.,  17,  C.  xvii.  Way. 
a  Lincolnshire  word,  and  that  Harrison, 


ON  "BONDMAN."  Ixi 

If  asked  to  guess  a  date  for  the  composition  of  the  ballad,  I 
should  guess  the  earlier  half  of  the  15th  century,  while  for  the 
recast  of  it  I  should  guess  the  latter  half  of  the  16th,  or  the 
former  half  of  the  17th.  The  tradition  embodied  in  it  is,  I 
doubt  not,  of  the  13th  century. 

Let  me  add,  before  ending  this  long  rigmarole,1  that  John  the 
Reeve  was  a  well-known  typical  personage,  like  Piers  Plowman, 
&c.,  as  is  shown  by  the  following  extract  from  a  discussion  on 
the  Real  Presence  in  the  Harleian  MS.  207  : 


Bonuw  est  sperare  in  domino  quern  et  sperare 
[1532.] 

The  Banckett  of  lohcm  the  Reve.  Vnto  peirs  ploughman.  Laurews 
laborer.  Thomlyn  Tailyor.  And  hobb  of  the  hille.  with  other. 

[leaf  2-]    m 

[A~|  relacion  maide.  by  hobb  of  the  hille  vnto  Sir  lohari  the  par- 
iclic  preste  vpon  A  coraminicacion.  Betwene.  lacke  lolie  Servyng- 
man  of  thone  partie.  And.  lohan  the  reve.  Peirs  plowgliman. 
Lawrence  Laborer.  Thomlyn  tailyor.  And  hobb  of  the  hille  of  thother 
pariie.  Wherin  the  said  Sir  lohan  wold  inaike  none  Awnswer  vnto 
he  knewe  the  olde  vecar  mynde.  the  wiche  saide  vecar  wrote  lyenge 
in  his  bedd  veray  seeke.  and  delyuerde  hys  mynde  in  wrytynge.  vnto 
his  pariche  preste.  And  the  said  prest  delyuerd  the  same  booke  to 
hobb  of  the  hille.  counsellynge  hym  to  learne  it.  wherebye  he  myght 
be  more  able  to  maike  better  Answere  to  suche  light  fellows  if  he 
chaunced  to  here  any  suche  Comminicacion  in  tyme  to  comme. 
Hobb  of  the  hille  said  vnto  sir  lohan.;.  Good  morow  Sir  lohan  .;. 
And  he  Answered  .;.  Good  morrowe  hobb  .;.  Hobb  said  .;.  Sir  lohan  I 
am  veray  glade  of  our  metynge  .;.  For  I  am  desirouse  of  your  coun- 
selle  in  a  weightie  matter  Sir  lohan  said.  Marie  ye  shalle  haue  the 
beste  councelle  that  is  in  me  .;.  What  is  your  matter  Bie  my  faitlie 
Sir  .;.  yesterdaie  My  master  [leaf  2  b.]  and  lohan  the  reve  maid  a 
feaste.  And  piers  plewghman.  Laurence  laboror.  And  Thomlyn  tailyor 
was  at  dyner  at  our  house,  And  I  seraed  them  at  dyner.  And  or 
halfe  dyner  was  done,  comme  in  a  Servynge  man  called  lacke  lolie. 
Rent  getherar  vnto  my  ladie.  For  my  master  lohan  the  reve  was 
Receuor  this  yeare  :  And  when  Iack[e]  lolie  was  sett  downe.  He 
demaunded  whether  we  had  any  messe  or  no  .;.  And  my  master  saide 


1  I  ought  to  apologise  for  its  short-  the  delay    named,    I    have   set  down 

comings.     It  has  been  put  together  in  opinions,  many  of  which,  though  hastily 

great  haste,  Mr.  Hales  having  been  un-  expressed,  have  not  been  hastily  formed, 

fortunately  unable  to  treat  its  subject,  as  my  long  connection   with   working 

•for  which  Part  II.  has  been  kept  back  men    and    with    Early    English    may 

four  months.     Feeling  obliged  to  say  guarantee, 
something  on   the   question  to  excuse 


Ixii  ON    "  BONDMAN." 

we  hadde,  and  trustede  to  haue .;.  Than  saide  lacke  lolie  that  we  war 
blynded  for  waunt  of  teachynge.  for  it  is  plane  ydolatrie  to  beleue 
that  the  bodie  and  blonde  of  criste  ar  in  firme  of  breade  and  wyne 
ministrede  in  the  alter,  And  for  his  purpose  he  Aleged  Many  Sayenges, 
As  of  Martyr  luther.  Eocolampadms.  Caralstadij.  lohan  Firtz 
Malangton,  with  many  dyuerse  other  .;.  Than  peirs  ploughman  waxed 
woundrus  Angrie.  and  called  lacke  lolie.  fals  heritike.  Than  my 
master  desired  them  bothe  to  be  content  in  his  house,  and  to  reason 
the  matter  gentlie.  And  thei  warre  bothe  contente  So  to  doo.;. 


Ixiii 


NOTES. 


p.  xxx.  "  Evans,  Pinkerton,  Hurd,  Eitson."  Hero  Hurd  is  a  mistake  for  Herd, 
who  published  two  vols.  of  Scottish  Ballads. — D.  (  =  Alexander  Dyce.) 

p.  1,  Chevy  Chase.  See  Mr.  Maidment's  comments  on  this  "  modern  version  "  in 
his  Scotish  Ballads,  1868,  i.  81.— F. 

that  "  expliceth,"  quoth  Eichard  Sheale,  does  not  mean  that  Sheale  was  the 
author,  but  the  scribe.  So  one  of  the  Piers  Plowman  MS.,  (Harl.  3954) 
ends — quod  Heruw,  &c. — Skeat. 

p.  2,  "  TJiat  day  "  &c.  In  the  "  Complaynt  of  Scotland,"  which  was  not  written 
before  1547,  mention  is  made  of  the  "  Hunttiss  of  Chevot,"  and  of  "  The 
persee  and  mongumrye  met,"  as  if  these  were  the  titles  of  two  separate 
ballads.  That  these  were  two  distinct  ballads  founded  on  the  battle  of 
Otterbourne,  and  known  in  Scotland  by  the  above  titles,  is  extremely  pro 
bable ;  for  though,  in  the  Scottish  ballad  of  the  "Battle  of  Otterbourne" 
the  line  "  The  Percy  and  Montgomery  met "  occurs,  the  name  of  Cheviot  is 
never  mentioned.  Dr.  Percy,  in  quoting  the  above  line  from  the  "  Com 
playnt  of  Scotland,"  gives  "That  day,  that  day,  that  gontil  day"  as  the 
following  one;  but  that  is,  in  fact,  the  title  of  another  ballad  or  song. 
Dr.  Eimbault.  Musical  Illustrations,  p.  1. 

p.  5,  Battle  of  Otterbourne.  See  Mr.  Eobert  White's  full  account  of  it,  with  an 
appendix  and  illustrations.  London,  1857. — F. 

p.  6,  1.  7  from  foot :  for  Wold  read  Henry  Bold.  Another  edition,  says  Mr. 
E.  Peacock,  is  a  fcp.  8vo.  of  39  pages.  "  Chevy  Chase,  a  ballad,  in  Latin 
Verse,  by  Henry  Bold,  accompanied  by  the  original  English  Text.  London, 
Printed  by  Henry  Bryer,  Bridge  St.  Blackfriars,  1818." 

p.  8, 1.  30,  read  fat  buckes.—Gh.    (  =  F.  J.  Child.) 

p.  11,  1.  123,  lyons  woode,  beyond  doubt. — Ch.  layd  on  lode  (=  a  load),  as  Skeat 
explains,  is,  I  think,  certain. — Ch. 

p.  12, 1.  143,  "  which  struck"  (as  in  Old  Ballads,  1723)  is  certainly  the  read 
ing.— Ch. 

p.  14,  1.  198 :  sorry  you  left  too  full :  no  doubt  of  doleful. — Ch. 

p.  17,  When  Loue  with  vnconfined  wings.  This  version  is  very  corrupt,  and  inferior 
to  the  printed  copy  of  1649.  See  my  edition  of  Lovelace,  1864. — Hazlitt. 

p.  20,  1.  8,  16,  24,  enioyes.  This  is  exactly  the  reverse  of  what  the  poet  meant 
and  wrote.— Hazlitt.  The  right  burden  is,  "  Know  no  such  Liberty,"  but 
the  4th  or  last  stanza  has  "  Injoy  such  Liberty." — F. 


Ixiv  NOTES. 

p.  21,  Claris.  See  my  communication  to  Notes  and  Queries,  3rd  Series  viii.  435,  and 
Bell's  edition  of  Waller.— Hazlitt. 

p.  24, 1.  3.  The  Percy  Society  reprinted  the  edition  of  1686,  but  imperfectly. — 
Hazlitt. 

p.  28,  1.  13,  read  yeelded. — Ch. 

p.  30,  In  Scots  poems,  &c.,  as  Percy  says,  we  find  "  Hollow,  my  Fancie :  "  but 
there  are  17  stanzas,  and  many  differences.  The  last  9 — including  only  the 
last  of  those  in  the  MS.  which  is  also  the  last  in  the  Scots  Poems  copy — are 
said  to  have  been  "  writ  by  Colonel  Clealand  of  my  Lord  Augus's  regiment, 
when  he  was  a  student  in  the  College  of  Edinburgh,  and  18  years  of  age." 
— Ch. 

p.  35, 1.  2.  1639  as  the  date  of  Carew's  death  is  only  conjectural. — H.  (  = 
W.  C.  Hazlitt.) 

p.  37, 1.  6.  1731.  This  Collection  was  printed  in  1662,  8vo,  and  again,  with  some 
changes,  in  1731,  2  vols.  12mo. — H. 

p.  38,  1.  22,  for  soine  read  sinne  (the  idea  is  that  the  Lower  House  sinnes  when  it 
does  sit). — Ch. 

p.  39,  note.  Percy's  Lumford  is  of  course  a  penslip  for  Lunsford.  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  in  a  note  to  chap.  xx.  of  Woodstock,  gives  another  version  of  the 
2nd  verse  of  this  Ballad,  and  an  account  of  Lunsford,  but  there  are  mistakes 
in  it.  Scott's  verse  is — 

The  post  who  came  from  Coventry 

Hiding  in  a  red  rocket, 
Did  tidings  tell,  how  Lunsford  fell, 

A  childs  hand  in  his  pocket. 

The  same  child-eating  scandal  is  noticed  in  Rump  Songs,  pt.  i.  p.  65 : 

From  Fielding  and  from  Vavasour, 

Both  ill-affected  men  ; 
From  Lunsford  eke  deliver  us, 

That  eateth  up  children. 

The  best  account  of  Lunsford  that  I  know  is  in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine, 
vol.  106,  pt.  i.  350,  602;  pt.  ii.  32,  148;  vol.  107,  pt.  i.  265.  Cf.  Rush- 
worth  Hist.  Col,  vol.  iii.  pt.  i.  p.  459;  Add.  MSS.  1519  f.  26,  6358  f.  50, 
5702  p.  118. 

There  is  an  engraving  among  the  King's  Pamphlets  in  the  British 
Museum — I  cannot  give  the  press  mark — representing  Sir  Thomas  Lunsford 
at  full  length.  In  the  background  is  a  church  in  flames,  and  a  soldier  with 
a  drawn  sword  pursuing  a  woman ;  a  companion  is  catching  another  woman 
by  her  hair.  Under  the  engraving  are  these  lines  : 

I'll  helpe  to  kill,  to  pillage,  and  destroy 

All  the  opposers  of  the  Prelacy. 

My  fortunes  are  grown  small,  my  friends  are  less, 

I'll  venture,  therefore,  life  to  have  redress ; 

By  picking,  stealing,  or  by  cutting  throates, 

Although  my  practise  cross  the  kingdom's  votes. 

p.  45,  1.  32,  for  witt  read  woe. — Ch. 

p.  50,  Howfayre  shee  be.  The  earliest  appearance  of  this  song  of  Wither's  was 
in  A  Description  of  Love,  1620 ;  then  again  it  appeared  at  the  end  of  Faire 
Virtue  &c.,  1622,  unless  the  undated  sheet  in  the  Pepysian  Library  be  older, 
which  is  more  than  possible. — Hazlitt. 


NOTES.  1XV 

p.  52, 1.  2,  read  hdlydom  (halidom) ;  Note  the  rhyme. — Ch. 
1.  3,  omit  /.— Ch. 

p.  53,  1.  12,  Percy  is  right,  and  Mr.  Chappell  wrong:  the  rhyme  is  with  braines,  not 
square. — Ch. 

1.  19,  drouth,  for  rhyme,  as  Percy  suggests. — Ch. 

1.  25,  drop  of,  hurts  metre  and  sense  :  '  will  you  be  the  taster?'  is  the  mean 
ing.— Ch. 

1.  28,  Exus  =  Naxos  of  course  :  29,  coyle,  rare. — Ch. 
1.  29,  coyse  should  be  coyle :  compare  1.  2. — D. 
1.  34,  for  of  read  on. — Ch. 
p.  54,  1.  42,  read  toward :  50,  sword's. — Ch. 

1.  54,  read  Cynthia's  fellow,  Muses'  dcere,  i.e.  (Diana's  mate,  darling  of  the 
Muses).— Ch. 

p.  55,  1.  72,  grace :  some  word  like  care  is  wanted. — Ch. 

p.  56,  The  Grcne  Knight.  G-ascoigne  the  poet,  when  he  was  on  service  in  the  Low 
Countries,  tells  us  that  ho  acquired  the  nickname  of  The  Green  Knight 
under  circumstances  of  a  peculiar  character. — Hazlitt. 

p.  63,  1.  123,  note,  Percy's  'gan  is  wrong. — Ch. 

1.  126,  thy  should  be  thce:  you  can  do  nothing  with  the  Sax.  \>y. — Ch. 

1.  146,  147,  read  praye,     blin  ;  (transpose  the  ;  and  ,). — Ch. 
p.  64,  168  (he  had  sayd  nothing),  qy.  hclc  ?  (i.  e.  so  have  I  hele). — Ch. 

p.  65,  note  4,  read  Egilsson  :  braid  is  well  enough  explained  by  the  A. -Sax.  breed  an, 
here,  gripe. — Ch. 

p.  67,  1.  255,  kcll,  i.e.  caul,  net-work  for  a  lady's  head.  The  note  on  this  word  is 
quite  from  the  purpose.  [So  it  is].  Compare — 

Faire  be  thy  wives,  right  lovesom,  white,  and  small : 
Clere  be  thy  virgyns,  lusty  under  kellys. 
London  !  thowe  art  the  flowre  of  cities  all. 

Dunbar.     Eeliq.  Ant.  i.  206.— F. 

The  line  describes  Bredbcddle's  wife,  not  Sir  Gawaine :  see  it  referred  to  in 
Madden's  Glossary,  to  Syr  Gawayne,  under  "  kell." — D. 

p.  67,  1.  236,  rought  =  were  sorry  for,  Sax.  hreowian. — Ch. 

p.  71,  1.  349,frauce,  apparently  from  French  froisscr,  clash,  dash,  &c. — Ch. 

1.  355  and  note.  How  could  "beleeue"  be  right?  To  say  nothing  of  1.  478,  the 
rhyme  required  proves  it  to  be  wrong. — D. 

p.  72,  1.  364,  tho  seems  to  me  more  likely  to  be  right. — Ch. 

p.  74,  1.  429 :  the  meaning  can  hardly  be  proved  about  Gawaine :  proved  by  is 
gone  through  by,  performed  by,  I  should  say. — Ch. 

p.  75,  1.  461,  throe :  rightly  explained  in  note.  Icel.  \>rar  has  the  same  meaning 
as  thra  in  G.  Doug. :  and  so  Sax.  \>red,  found  only  in  composition. — Ch. 

p.  76,  1.  496,  other  =  second,  as  in  Sax.     So  1.  523. — Ch. 

p.  82,  1.  68,  "  &  hoard  them  speake  "  should  be  "  &  heard  him  speake." — D.  and  Ch. 

p.  83,  1.  75,  the  =  thy.— Ch. 

VOL.  II.  e 


NOTES. 

p.  86,  1.  177,  noe  more,  read  noe  moe. — D. 

p.  88,  1.  211,  some  spending  money.     The  author  must  have  written  something  like 
money  for  spending. — D.     Read  money  for  spending. — Ch. 

1.  214,  you  heyre,  read  your  heyre. — D. 

p.  90,  1V273,  drop  ^  (caught  from  1.  271  or  268) ;  thereto  makes  sense.— Ch. 
p.  92,  1.  336,  for  said  read  had. — Ch. 

p.  94,  1.  399,  /one  should  be  foe  (unless  in  the  concluding  line  of  the  stanza  goe  be 
an  error  for  gone). — D. 

1.  402,  read  go\n\e  — Ch. 
p.  98, 1.  523,  other  =  second  :  cf.  1.  496.— Ch. 
1.  534,  soe  bee,  read  soe  beene. — D. 

p.  99,  1.  556,  "  for  to  his  graue  he  rann  "  ought  manifestly  to  be  "  for  to  his  mas 
ters  graue  he  rann  " :  compare  1.  543. — D. 

1.  557,  rend  followed.— Ch. 

p.  104, 1.  693,  thither  wold  he  wend,  ?  read  thither  wold  he  right. — D. 
p.  108,  1.  800,  read  rest.— Ch. 

1.  807,  why  not  read  shivver  ?  shimmer  makes  no  sense. — Ch. 
p.  Ill,  1.  895,  noe  more,  read  noe  moe. — D.  and  Ch. 
"p.  112,  1.  919,  in  the  crye,  an  undoubted  error  for  in  the  stowre. — D. 
p.  113, 1.  964,  was  past,  read  was  gane,  or  gaen  (i.e.  gone). — D. 
p.  117, 1.  1048,  read  with  thee.—Ch. 

1. 1067,  I  should  understand  yerning  as  eager,  &c.     It  is  very  expressive 
of  the  noise  of  a  dog  who  wants  a  thing  very  much. — Ch. 

p.  119, 1.  1125,  for  his  heire,  read  is  neire. — Ch.     I  took  it  for  is  here. — F. 

p.  120,  1.  1165,  read  come.—Ch. 

p.  122,  1.  1202,  busied,  ?  bustled,  made  a  stir,  made  a  "  towre." — Ch. 

1.  1207,  VQ^fyery  wood?— Ch. 
p.  125,  1.  1300,  read  nwe.—Ch. 

1.  1305,feelds,  certainly  fells. — D. 
p.  128,  1.  1403,  blithe,  read  bliue  (i.e.  quickly).— D. 

p.  132, 1.  1496,  affrayd  should  be  aghaste — Copland's  ed.  having  the  right  reading 
in  1.  1494,  wonder  faste,  and  brast  being  the  final  word  of  1.  1500. — D. 

p.  133, 1.  1528,  Sir  Marrockee  the  hight.  If  this  be  right,  it  means  "  they  called 
him  Sir  Marrock  " :  but  qy.  he  hight  (i.e.  he  was  called)? — D.  Why  not,  he 
hight  ?—Ch. 

p.  136,  Guye  and  Amarant.  This  is  a  portion  of  The  Famous  Historie  of  Guy  Erie 
of  Warwicke,  &c.,  by  S.  Kowlands ;  and  I  cannot  but  think  that  Mr.  F. 
mistakes  the  nature  and  intention  of  it.  Eowlands  is  evidently  imitating 
the  serio-comic  romance  poetry  of  Italy,  a  kind  of  writing  which  has  been 
popular  in  that  country,  from  Pulci  down  to  Fortiguerra. — D. 


NOTES.  Ixvii 

p.  136.  I  do  not  understand  note  3,  "  torn  out&c." — Ch.  Page  253  of  the  MS.  was 
torn  out,  Percy  said,  to  send  King  Estmere,  which  was  on  it,  to  press. — F. 

p.  137,  1.  45,  recovers  — recover  his,  of  course. — Ch. 
p.  139,  1.  92,  this  coward  art,  read  this  coward  act. — D. 
p.  140,  1.  135,  (probably)  den[a]yd.—Ch. 

p.  145,  1.  2,Ehe.  "The  Duke  of  Buckingham's  Manifestation  of  Remonstrance,  with 
a  Journal  of  his  Proceedings  in  the  Isle  of  Ree,  1627,  4to."  An  unhappy  View 
of  the  whole  Behaviour  of  my  Lord  Duke  of  Buckingham  at  the  French 
Island  called  the  Isle  of  Rhee,  discovered  by  Colonel  William  Fleetwood,  an 
unfortunate  commander  in  that  untoward  service,  1648.  This  most  fierce  and 
prejudiced  impeachment  of  an  expedition,  ill  planned  and  unhappily  ter 
minated,  is  reprinted  in  the  fifth  volume  of  the  Somers  Collection  of  Tracts. 
Lowndes.  The  Expedition  to  the  Isle  of  Bhe,  by  Edward,  Lord  Herbert  of 
Cherbury.  Edited  by  Lord  Powis  for  the  Philobiblon  Soc.  I860.— F. 

p.  147,  King  and  Miller,  the  first  known  edition  was  imprinted  at  London,  by 
Edward  Allde  [circa  1600].— Hazlitt. 

p.  148,  1.  2,  read  the  Reeve.— Ch. 
p.  155,  1.  186,  read  a  botts.—Ch. 
p.  160,  1.  1,  for  is  read  It  is. 

1.  2,  for  dijferen  read  different. 

169*  l'  72'  1  60'000  is  evidentlv  tne  right  reading,  as  the  metre  shows.— Ch. 
p.  168,  1.  57,  and  last,  read  at  last.—D. 

p.  172,  the  last  line  of  notes,  hurms  should  be  harms. — D. 

1.  135.  In  Rymer,  ix.  317-18,  is  Robert  Waterton's  petition  to  be  repaid 
the  costs  of  the  Duke  of  York,  and  the  prisoners  (1)  Count  de  Ewe,  (2) 
Arthur  de  Bretaigne,  (3)  le  Mareschall  Buchecaud,  Perron  de  Lupe,  and 
Cuchart  de  Sesse,  these  3,  at  s.  23,  4d.  a  day,  and  other  travelling  ex 
penses.  At  p.  334,  Rymer,  ix,  are  "  Beds,  curtains,  &c.  for  the  Dukes  of 
Orleans  and  Burbon,  at  Eltham,  the  Tower  of  London,  Westminster,  Wind 
sor,  and  diverse  other  places."  p.  360  is,  de  Domino  de  Lyne,  prisonaris. 
p 

p.  174,  Conscience.  Compare  The  Booke  in  Meeter  of  Robin  Conscience,  ?  about 
1550;  and  Allde's  edition  before  1600,  printed  in  Halliwell's  Contributions 
to  Early  English  Literature,  1849,  and  with  4  additional  stanzas  inllazlitt's 
Early  Popular  Poetry,  iii.  221.  Compare  also  A  piece  of  Friar  Bacons 
Brazen-heads  Prophesies,  1604,  (Percy  Society,  1844,)  Lauder's  poem  on 
the  Nature  of  Scotland  twiching  the  Intcrtainment  of  mrtewus  men  that 
lacketh  Ryches,  $~c.,  and  Martin  Parker's  Robin  Conscience,  or  Conscionable 
Robin.  His  Progresse  thorow  Court,  City,  and  Couutrey:  with  his  bad 
entertainement  at  each  severall  place.  Very  pleasant  and  merry  to  bee  read. 
Written  in  English  by  M.  P. 

Charitie's  cold,  mens  hearts  are  hard, 
And  most  doores  against  Conscience  bard. 

London  1635,  8vo.,  11  leaves,  Bodleian.  (Burton's  Books)  Haditfs  Hand 
book.— F. 

p.  186, 1.  49,  read  denide.—Ch. 

e  2 


Ixviii  NOTES. 

p.  188,  1.  104,  sore  should  be  dropped  and  the  line  not  indented :  sore  is  evidently 
caught  from  the  line  above. — Ch. 

p.  190,  Harl.  MS.  4843  (paper).  Article  11  is  "Anno  Do-mini  millesimo  cccxlvi 
die  Martis,  in  vigilia  Lucae  Evangelistse,  hora  M.atutina  ix.  commissum 
fuit  bellum  inter  Anglos  et  Scotos  non  longe  a  Dunelmia,  in  loco  ubi  nunc 
stat  crux  vulgariter  dictus  Nevillcrosse  "  Poema  rhythmicum,  [leaf]  241. 
Harl.  Catal. 

p.  191,  1.  2,  hearken  to  me  a  litle  [while  ?]— Ch. 

p.  199,  1.  245,  read  brother,  ("  to  the  King  of  ffrance  "  is  a  marginal  gloss). — Ch. 

1.  245,  &c.,  brothers  should  be  brother;   and  the   words   to  the  King  of 
ffrance  is  a  gloss  crept  into  the  text. — D. 

p.  200,  last  line  but  two  of  note,  for  63-6  read  63-8.  (Durham  Feilde  is  likely 
enough  by  the  author  of  Flodden  Field). — Ch. 

p.  201,  See  the  "  Descendants  from  Guy,  Earl  of  Warwick ;  i.e.  of  the  family  of 
Arden  of  Parke-Hall  in  Com.  Warwic.  who  were  indeed  descended  from  the 
Great  Turchil,  who  lived  at  the  time  of  the  Conquest."  Harl.  MS.  853, 
leaf  113.  Mr.  Halliwell  in  his  Descriptive  Notices  of  Early  English  His 
tories,  p.  47-8,  says  of  the  story  of  Guy :  "  This  tale  was  dramatized  early 
in  the  17th  century,  and  Taylor  mentions  having  seen  it  acted  at  the 
Maidenhead  of  Islington."  "  After  supper  we  had  a  play  of  the  life  and 
death  of  Guy  in  "Warwicke,  played  by  the  Eight  Honourable  the  Earle  of 
Darbie  his  men."  Pennilesse  Pilgrimage,  ed.  1630,  p.  140."  Dr.  Eimbault 
prints  the  tune  of  the  ballad  at  p.  46-7  of  his  Musical  Illustrations,  from 
the  Ballad  Opera  of  "Kobin  Hood,"  performed  at  Lee  and  Harper's  Booth 
in  1730.  The  ballad,  he  says,  "was  entered  on  the  Stationers'  books,  5th 
January,  1591-2." — F. 

p.  202,  1.  37,  the  grave  is  a  ridiculous  blunder  for  the  cave. — D. 

1.  47,  ingrauen  in   Mold  should  be  ingrauen  ins  tone.     Here  the  scribe 
repeated  by  mistake  the  word  Mold  from  the  first  line  of  the  stanza. — D. 

p.  203,  last  line  but  4,  read  "  Mawgertoun." — Ch. 

p.  203,  1.  5  from  foot.  Nephew  to  the  Laird  of  Mangertoun  (misprinted  Marger- 
toun).  This  reference  to  the  nephew  of  the  Lord  of  Mangerton,  the  chief 
of  the  Armstrongs,  leads  to  the  inference  that  the  circumstances  on  which 
the  ballad  is  founded  had  occurred  previous  to  the  rescue  of  William  Arm 
strong  of  Kinmont,  as  Sir  Eichard  Maitland  was  born  in  1496,  and  died  at 
the  advanced  age  of  ninety,  on  the  2()th  of  March,  1586.  Jock,  in  1569, 
gave  protection  to  the  Countess  of  Northumberland,  after  the  unfortunate 
rising  and  defeat  of  her  husband  and  the  Earl  of  Westmoreland,  when 
they  were  both  compelled  to  fly  from  England.  After  an  unsuccessful 
attempt  to  take  refuge  in  Liddesdale,  they  were  compelled  to  put  themselves 
under  the  protection  of  the  Armstrongs  of  the  Debateable  land.  The 
Countess,  who  did  not  accompany  them,  her  tire-woman  and  ten  other 
persons  who  were  with  her,  were  unscrupulously  despoiled  by  the  Liddes 
dale  reivers  of  their  horses,  so  that  the  poor  lady  was  left  on  foot  at  John 
of  the  Side's  house,  a  cottage  not  to  be  compared  to  many  a  dog-kennel  in 
England."  Maidment's  Scotish  Ballads,  i.  182-3.  Maidment  also  gives  the 
ballad  of  Hobbie  Noble  at  p.  191,  showing  how  he  was  betrayed  into  the 
hands  of  his  enemies  by  the  Armstrongs,  whose  Jock  he  had  rescued. — F. 

p.  204,  1.  4,  he  is  gone,  read  he  is  gane  or  gacn  (i.e.  gone). — D. 
1.  6,  (of  Maitland)  read  anc  for  and. — Ch. 


NOTES.  Ixix 

p.  217,  1.  14,  has  received,  read  had  received.  —  D. 
p.  222,  1.  106,  face  seems  to  be  an  error  for  eye.  —  D. 
1.  126,  .  after  "  yee."—  Ch. 

p.  226,  1.  214,  for  land  read  man  ?  (Percy  has  laird,  but  that  reading  is  not  likely 
in  this  English  ballad).—  Ch. 

p.  235,  note  5,  "  and  delend"  Perhaps  so  ;  but  in  old  ballads  and  is  sometimes 
redundant.  —  D. 

p.  237,  1.  232,  soefast  runn,  read  soefast  rinn.  —  D. 

p.  240,  1.  63,  with  speares  in  brest.  This,  of  course,  should  be  with  speares  in 
rest.—D.  (?—  F.) 

1.  64,  .  after  "  ffight"—  Ch. 

p.  279,  Bessie  off  Bednall.  There  are  several  plays  on  this  subject.  The  earliest 
is  The  Blind  Beggar  of  Bednal-Grecn,  with  the  merry  humor  of  Tom 
Strowd  the  Norfolk  Yeoman,  as  it  was  divers  times  publickly  acted  by  the 
Princes  Servants.  Written  by  John  Day,  1659,  4to.  The  latest  was  by  my 
friend  Sheridan  Knowles.  —  D. 

p.  292,  1.  56,  for  shinne,  read,  as  in  the  next  stanza,  shoone.  —  D. 

p.  297,  1.  35,  pinn.  I  prefer  pin  as  a  corruption  of  point,  as  in  "  He's  but 
one  pin  above  a  natural."  Cartwright.  Cf.  our  use  of  peg. 

The  calendar,  right  glad  to  find 
His  friend  in  merry  pin. 

John  Grilpin.  —  Skeat. 

p.  306,  1.  43,  wadded.  Surely  the  context,  "  gaule  "  and  "  greene  "  and  "  black," 
shows  that  "  wadded  "  should  be  "  watchct  "  (i.  e.  pale  blue).  —  D.  (?  woaded. 

p.  313,  1.  13,  sonne.     Here,  to  be  consistent,  we  must  read  sonne\s\.  —  D. 

p.  315,  1.  70,  "  Scarlett  and  redd"  a  blunder  for  "scarlctt  redd."  —  D. 

p.  319,  1.  200,  giusts  ;  of  course,  "  giusts  "  should  be  "  giufts  "  (gifts).  —  D. 


p.  328,  1.  22,  for  Lay,  ?  read  he  laines  (i.e.  conceals).—  D. 

p.  341,  Sir  Eglamore.  "  Sir  Eglamore  "  must  have  been  originally  written  in 
Northern  rather  than  in  Southern  English,  as  appears  from  internal  evi 
dence.  We  find  innumerable  rimes  which  are  no  rimes,  but  which  become 
so  at  once  when  translated  into  a  Northumbrian  dialect.  Is  it  not  clear 
that  such  rimes  as  taketh  and  goeth  should  be  tais  and  gais  ?  That  for  tone 
and  bone  we  should  read  tane  and  bane  ?  So,  too,  rore  (riming  to  were}  ought 
to  be  rair.  Driueth  and  cliffes  should  be  driffis  and  cliffis.  Drew  and  loughe 
(laughed)  should  be  dreuch  and  leuch.  Abode  must  be  abaid,  if  it  is  to  rime 
with  made  (or  maid}.  And  finally,  as  a  crucial  instance,  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  believe  that  the  four  words  in  stanza  75  —  pace,  rose,  was,  and 
taketh,  were  not  intended  to  rime  together  in  the  forms  pas,  ras,  was,  and 
tais  or  tas.  To  take  one  more  case,  for  rest,  trust,  cast,  and  last  (st.  4),  read 


1XX  NOTES. 

rest,  trist,  kest,  lest.  And  when  we  further  observe  that  the  rimes  may  be 
thus  emended  throughout  the  whole  poem,  surely  the  inference  that  it  was  of 
Northern  origin  becomes  almost  a  certainty. — Skeat. 

p.  343,  1.  65,  for  "  &  show  your  hart  &  love,"  ?  read  " —  hart  and  love  her 
to"?—D. 

p.  344,  1.  93, 

p.  345,  1.  132, 

Vln  these  lines,  more  should  be  mair. — D. 
p.  352,  1.  320, 

p.  355,  1.  403, , 

p.  359,  1.  505,  for  home  read  hame. — D. 

p.  367,  1.  702,  head.  There  the  rhyme  determines  that  for  "head"  we  must  sub 
stitute  the  A.-S.  heved.—D. 

p.  369,  1.  766,  for  yeelde  read  yode  (not,  as  Percy  says,  yeede). — D. 

p.  369,  A  Cauileere.  See  Grervase  Markham's  chapter  "  Of  Hawking  with  all  sorts 
of  Hawkes,"  &c.,  in  his  Countrey  Contentments,  1615,  Bk.  I,  p.  87-97.  "  The 
pleasure  of  hawking  .  .  is  a  most  Princely  and  serious  delight." — F. 

p.  373,  1.  856,  for  rose  read  rase. — D. 
p.  382,  1.  1119,  for  more  read  moe. — D. 
p.  384,  1.  1117,  for  went  hee  read  hee  gone. 

p.  387,  note  1.  As  the  true  reading  is  undoubtedly  " man"  why  say  anything 
about  the  meaning  of  "  May  "  ? — D. 

p.  388,  1.  1285,  for  dwell  read  wend.— D. 

p.  390,  The  Emperour  and  the  Childe,  or  Valentine  &  Orson.  See  Halli well's 
Descriptive  Notices,  1848,  p.  29-30,  as  to  the  Eomance,  and  the  prose  story. 

p.  401,  1.  12,  "  that  ginnye  his  ffilly  wold  haue  her  owne  will."  Here  "  Ginnye" 
is  the  name  of  "his  ffilly."  If  the  MS.  has  "grimye,"  it  is  an  error. — D. 

p.  419,  1.  106,  for  young  read  ying. — D. 

p.  432, 1.  439,  "  &  said,  Cozen  will ! 

who  hath  done  to  you  this  shame  ?  " 

Here  "  will "  sounds  very  ridiculously,  as  if  the  3  knights  were  using  the 
familiar  abbreviation  of  their  cousin's  name !  Eead  undoubtedly  (com 
paring  Eitson's  text  of  the  passage), 

"  &  said,  Cozen  William, 
who  hath  done  to  you  this  shame  ?  " — D. 

p.  454,  1.  1078,  "both  old  &  young."    Tin   both    places   "young"   should    be 
p.  496,  1.  2223,  "both  old  and  young."  J  "ying"—D. 

p.  493,  note  1.  Wivre.  See  a  drawing  of  one  at  p.  9  of  the  Bestiaire  tf  Amour  of 
Eichard  de  Fournival,  Paris,  1860  ;  and  Mons.  Hippeau's  note  at  p.  103-4. 
— F. 

p.  500,  Childe  Maurice.  See  E.  Jamieson's  notes  to  this  ballad  in  his  Pop.  Bal. 
and  Songs,  i.  16-21. — F. 


NOTES.  Ixxi 

p.  605,  1.  98,  and  dryed  it  on  the  grasse.     Jamieson  compares 

Horn  gan  his  swerd  gripe 
Ant  on  his  arm  hit  wype : 
The  Sarazyn  he  hit  so, 
That  his  hed  fel  to  ys  to. 
•  Ritson's  Met.  Bom.  vol.  ii.  p.  116.— F. 

p.  506,  1.  117,  wicked  be  my  merry  men  all.  Jamieson  compares  with  this  the  last 
3  stanzas  of  Little  Musgrave  (i.  122,  note):  "  Woe  worth  you,  woe  worth 
my  merry  men  all,"  and  says,  "  The  same  kind  of  remonstrance  with  those 
about  him  occurs  in  Lee's  tragedy  of  '  Alexander  the  Great '  after  the 
murder  of  Clitus."  Most  men  want  to  put  their  sins  on  other  people's 
shoulders. — F. 

p.  521,  the  extract  from  Lane's  MS.  Harl.  5243,  is  only  his  address  to  the  reader, 
before  his  Poem  on  Guy. — F. 

p.  536,  1.  284,  for  noone  read  "noone  time."     (Compare,  ante,  p.  468,  1. 1441, — 


"  ffro  :  the  hower  of  prime 
till  it  was  eiiensong  time") — D. 


p.  536,  1.  290,  for  there  read  thore.—D. 

p.  541,  1.  432.  There  is  a  church  in  Winchester  called  St.  Swithin's,  which  is 
merely  a  large  room  over  the  archway  of  King's  Gate,  but  it  has  no  pre 
tensions  to  the  antiquity  mentioned  in  your  letter.  The  sword  and  axe 
of  the  giant  were  probably  ordered  to  be  hung  up  in  the  cathedral  church, 
which  was  originally  dedicated  under  the  title  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul ; 
but  the  body  of  St.  Swithin  having  been  transferred  from  the  churchyard 
into  the  sumptuous  shrine  built  for  its  reception,  the  cathedral  from  thence 
forth  down  to  the  time  of  Henry  VIII.  was  distinguished  by  the  name  of 
Saint  Swithin,  and  this  is  no  doubt  the  church  alluded  to. — Walter  Bailey. 

p.  579, 1.  529,  John  de  Reeve.  The  mention  of  the  galliard  here,  a  dance  not  intro 
duced  into  England  till  about  1541,  confirms  what  the  language  shows,  that 
our  version  of  the  poem  is  a  late  one. — F. 

p.  582,  1.  606,  On  Chape,  see  Wedgwood's  Diet.  i.  321. 


jfoifo 


antr 


Cfttup 

THERE  are  two  principal  versions  of  this  well-known  ballad— 
an  old,  and  a  modern  one.  The  copy  preserved  in  the  Folio  is 
a  slightly  various  form  of  the  latter. 

The  oldest  copy  of  the  old  version  is  preserved  in  a  MS.  in 
the  Ashmolean  Collection  at  Oxford.  This  was  printed  by 
Hearne,  in  1719,  in  the  Preface  to  his  edition  of  Ghilielmus 
Neubrigiensis.  "  To  the  MS.  copy,"  says  Percy,  (<  is  subjoined  the 
name  of  the  author,  Ey  chard  Sheale  [expliceth  quoth  Ey  chard 
Sheale] ;  whom  Hearne  had  so  little  judgement  as  to  suppose  to 
be  the  same  with  a  E.  Sheal,  who  was  living  in  1588."  The 
general  character  of  the  language,  if  there  were  no  other  proof, 
proves  that  the  ballad  is  of  a  much  earlier  date  than  1588  ;  but 
probably  Hearne  is  right  in  identifying  the  subscribed  "E.  Sheale" 
with  the  well-known  ballad-singer  of  that  name,  who  flourished, 
or  more  truly  withered,  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  This 
Sheale  was  in  some  sort  the  last  of  the  minstrels.  There  are 

1  In   the    printed  Collection   of   Old  Glasgow  8  ™  1747.— Which  is  remarkable 

Ballads.  1727.      Vol.  1.  p.  108.  No.  xiv.  for  the  wilful  Corruptions  made  in  all 

N.B.    The    Headings    in    the    Margin  ye   Passages    w^'ch    concern    the    two 

[here  transferred  to  the  foot-notes]  are  Nations. — P. 
taken  from  the  Scotch  Edition  printed  at 

VOL.  II.  B 


2  CHEUY   CHASE. 

extant  some  lines  of  his,  of  very  inferior  merit,  wherein  he 
bewails  his  miserable  condition.  He  narrates  with  many  sighs 
and  groans  how  he  has  been  robbed,  left  destitute,  and  no  man 
gave  unto  him.  Certainly,  if  these  lines  are  a  fair  specimen  of 
his  talents,  one  cannot  wonder  that  he  found  the  world  somewhat 
cold.  And  certainly  the  author  of  those  lines  could  never  have 
written  "  The  Hunting  of  the  Cheviot."  But  he  may  have  sung 
it  many  and  many  a  time,  and  passed  with  many  an  audience  for 
the  author.  And  hence,  perhaps,  the  subscription  of  his  name  to 
the  Ashmolean  copy.  The  ballad  in  his  time  was  extensively 
popular.  Sir  Philip  Sidney  refers  to  it  in  a  well-known 
passage  (though,  as  Prof.  Child  suggests,  it  is  not  impossible 
that  he  may  mean  the  "Battle  of  Otterbourne  "),  as  commonly 
sung  by  "  blind  crowders."  Many  years  before  Sidney  wrote  his 
Defence  of  Poetry,  the  Complaint  of  Scotland,  written  in  1548, 
speaks  of  "  The  Huntis  of  Chevot,"  and  quotes  the  line, 

That  day,  that  day,  that  gentill  day, 

which  is  apparently  a  memory-quotation,  or  perhaps  a  Scotch 

version  of 

That  day,  that  day,  that  dredfull  day. 

This  evidence  of  its  popularity  in  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  coupled  with  the  antiquity  of  the  language  (though 
much  of  that  "  antiquity "  belongs  to  the  dialect  in  which, 
rather  than  to  the  time  at  which,  it  was  written),  justify  the 
assigning  of  the  ballad  to  the  fifteenth  century. 

This  ballad  is  historically  highly  valuable  for  the  picture  it 
gives  of  Border  warfare  in  its  more  chivalrous  days,  when 
ennobled  by  generosity  and  honour.  The  hewing  and  hacking 
lose  their  horrors  in  the  atmosphere  of  romance  thrown  around 
them.  And  the  main  incidents  of  the  piece  are  no  doubt 
generally  true. 

Such  fierce  collisions  as  here  represented   must  often  have 


CHEUY    CHASE.  3 

occurred,  and  from  the  same  cause  here  given.  "  It  was  one  of 
the  Laws  of  the  Marches  frequently  renewed  between  the  two 
nations,  that  neither  party  should  hunt  in  the  other's  borders 
without  leave  from  the  proprietors  or  their  deputies."  This 
permission  the  high-spirited  Borderer  was  not  always  disposed  to 
ask.  He  did  not  care  to  beg  for  favours.  He  would  make  no 
secret  of  his  purposed  sport,  so  that  if  the  warden  of  the  March 
about  to  be  trespassed  upon  chose  to  oppose  him,  he  was  not 
prevented  from  doing  so  by  ignorance  of  his  intention.  In  this 
way  the  proclamation  of  a  hunting  expedition  across  the  Borders 
was  in  reality  a  challenge  to  a  contest.  An  excellent  illustration 
of  the  perpetual  possibility  of  an  encounter,  which  attended  and 
recommended  these  defiant  expeditions,  is  to  be  found  in  the 
Memoirs  of  Carey,  Earl  of  Monmouth.  Carey  was  Warden  of 
the  Marches  in  Queen  Mary's  time,  and  gives  the  following 
account : 

"There  had  been  an  ancient  custom  of  the  borders,  when 
they  wTere  at  quiet,  for  the  opposite  border  to  send  the  warden  of 
the  Middle  Marche,  to  desire  leave  that  they  might  come  into 
the  borders  of  England,  and  hunt  with  their  greyhounds  for 
deer,  towards  the  end  of  summer,  which  was  denied  them. 
Towards  the  end  of  Sir  John  Foster's  government,  they  would, 
without  asking  leave,  come  into  England  and  hunt  at  their 
pleasure,  and  stay  their  own  time.  I  wrote  to  Farnehurst,  the 
warden  over  against  me,  that  I  was  no  way  willing  to  hinder 
them  of  their  accustomed  sports ;  and  that  if,  according  to  the 
ancient  custom,  they  would  send  to  me  for  leave,  they  should 
have  all  the  contentment  I  could  give  them ;  if  otherwise,  they 
would  continue  their  wonted  course,  I  would  do  my  best  to 
hinder  them.  Within  a  month  after,  they  came  and  hunted  as 
they  used  to  do,  without  leave,  and  cut  down  wood,  and  carried 
it  away.  Towards  the  end  of  summer,  they  came  again  to  their 
wonted  sports.  I  sent  my  two  deputies  with  all  the  speed  they 

B    2 


CHEUY   CHASE. 

could  make,  and  they  took  along  with  them  such  gentlemen  as 
were  in  their  way,  with  my  forty  horse,  and  about  one  o'clock 
they  came  up  to  them,  and  set  upon  them.  Some  hurt  was 
done,  but  I  gave  especial  order  they  should  do  as  little  hurt,  and 
shed  as  little  blood  as  possible  they  could.  They  took  a  dozen  of 
the  principal  gentlemen  that  were  there,  and  brought  them  to  me 
to  Witherington,  where  I  then  lay ;  I  made  them  welcome,  and 
gave  them  the  best  entertainment  I  could ;  they  lay  in  the  castle 
two  or  three  days,  and  so  I  sent  them  home,  they  assuring  me 
that  they  would  never  hunt  again  without  leave.  The  Scots  king 
complained  to  Queen  Elizabeth  very  grievously  of  this  fact." 

"Mr.  Addison,  in  his  celebrated  criticism  on  that  ancient 
ballad  of  Chevy  Chase,  Spect.  No.  20,  mistakes  the  ground  of  the 
quarrel.  It  was  not  any  particular  animosity  or  deadly  feud 
between  the  two  principal  actors,  but  was  a  contest  of  privilege 
and  jurisdiction  between  them,  respecting  their  offices,  as  lords 
wardens  of  the  marches  assigned."  Extract  from  the  Eeport  of 
Sir  Thomas  Carlton,  of  Carlton  Hall,  1547,  in  Hutchinson's 
History  of  Cumberland,  pp.  28-9. 

The  general  spirit  of  the  ballad  then  is  historical.  But  the 
details  are  not  authentic.  "  That  which  is  commonly  sung  of  the 
Hunting  of  Cheviot,"  says  Grodscroft,  writing  in  his  James  VI.'s 
time,  and  apparently  referring  to  a  version  of  the  ballad  then 
circulating  in  Scotland,  "  seemeth  indeed  poetical  and  a  mere 
fiction,  perhaps  to  stir  up  virtue  ;  yet  a  fiction  whereof  there  is 
no  mention,  either  in  Scottish  or  English  Chronicle."  An  event 
to  which  it  might  possibly  refer  according  to  Collins,  in  his 
Peerage,  was  the  Battle  of  Pepperden,  fought  in  1436,  as  Hector 
Boethius  informs  us,  "  not  far  from  the  Cheviot  hills,  between  the 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  and  Earl  William  Douglas  of  Angus, 
with  a  small  army  of  about  four  thousand  men  each,  in  which 
the  latter  had  the  advantage.  As  this  seems  to  have  been  a 
private  conflict  between  these  two  great  chieftains  of  the  Borders, 


CHEUY    CHASE.  5 

rather  than  a  national  war,  it  has  been  thought  to  have  given 
rise  to  the  celebrated  old  ballad  of  Chevy  Chase ;  which  to  render 
it  more  pathetic  and  interesting,  has  been  heightened  with 
tragical  incidents  wholly  fictitious."  But  in  any  case  these  were 
great  Border  names.  Percy  and  Douglas  were  typical  chieftains. 
Moreover  on  the  field  of  Otterbourne  a  Percy  and  a  Douglas  had 
fought  fiercely  together,  man  against  man,  under  very  similar 
circumstances.  That  field  was  much  celebrated  in  Border  poetry, 
and  elsewhere.  The  ballad  on  the  Hunting  of  the  Cheviot, — 
borrowed  largely  from  that  on  the  Battle  of  Otterbourne, — was, 
in  fact,  in  course  of  time  believed  to  celebrate  the  same  event. 
Observe  these  lines  of  it : 

This  was  the  Hontynge  of  the  Cheviat; 

That  tear  began  this  spurn  : 
Old  men  that  knowen  the  grownde  well  yenough  ; 

Call  it  the  Battell  of  Otterburn. 

This  attempt  made  at  the  identification  of  two  actions  is 
noticeable.  We  are  afraid  that  the  "  old  men "  scarcely  knew 
the  ground  well  enough.  Otterbourne  is  but  some  30  miles  from 
Newcastle.  Douglas  met  Percy,  the  "  Hunting "  tells  us,  in 
Teviotdale.  In  a  word,  the  two  ballads  represent  two  different 
features  of  the  old  Border  life — the  Eaid  and  the  defiant  Hunt. 
But  they  had  much  in  common,  and  so  were  soon  confused 
together. 

Of  the  battle  of  Otterbourne,  fought  in  1388,  there  are 
historical  accounts  in  abundance — Fordun's,  Froissart's,  Holin- 
shed's,  Godscroft's.  See  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border.  Of 
the  ballad  concerning  it — whose  account  is  mainly  accurate — 
indeed  the  facts  somewhat  trammel  the  poet's  wings, — there  are 
three  versions :  the  English  one,  given  by  Percy  in  his  Reliques, 
from  a  Harl.  MS.  in  the  earlier  editions,  from  a  more  perfect 
Cotton  MS.  (Cleop.  iv.  f.  64)  in  the  fourth,  and  two  Scotch  ones, 
to  be  found,  one  in  the  Minstrelsy,  the  other  in  Herd's  Scottish 


6  CHEUY   CHASE. 

Songs.  The  differences  between  the  English  and  Scotch  versions 
are  such  as  might  be  expected — are  of  a  patriotic  kind.  The 
main  difference  between  the  two  Scotch  versions  relates  to  the 
death  of  Douglas. 

Of  the  versions  of  "the  Hunting  of  the  Cheviat,"  that  preserved 
in  the  Folio  is,  as  we  have  said,  the  modernised  one ;  not  that 
heard  by  Sidney,  who  calls  what  he  heard  "  the  rude  and  ill- 
apparelled  song  of  a  barbarous  age  ; "  a  description  not  applicable 
to  the  present  version.  When  this  modernisation  was  made, 
cannot  be  said  exactly.  "That  it  could  not  be  much  later  than 
Queen  Elizabeth's  time,"  says  Percy,  "  appears  from  the  phrase 
'  doleful  dumps ; '  which  in  that  age  carried  no  ill  sound  with  it, 
but  to  the  next  generation  became  ridiculous.  We  have  seen  it 
pass  uncensured  in  a  sonnet  that  was  at  that  time  in  request,  and 
where  it  could  not  fail  to  have  been  taken  notice  of,  had  it  been 
the  least  exceptionable  [in  "  a  song  to'  the  lute  in  Musicke  "  from 
the  Paradise  of  Daintie  Devises,  1596],  yet  in  about  half  a 
century  after,  it  was  become  burlesque.  Vide  Hudibras,  Pt.  i. 
c.  iii.  v.  95."  Its  presence  in  the  Folio  MS.  shows  that  it  was  not 
made  later  than  the  first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century.  It 
soon  became  the  current  version.  Addison  in  his  critique  in  the 
Spectator  knows  of  no  other.  A  comparison  of  it  with  the  old 
versions  will  show,  besides  one  or  two  verbal  blunders,  that  much 
of  its  vigour  has  been  lost  in  the  process  of  translation. 

Of  all  our  ballads  this  perhaps  has  enjoyed  the  widest  popu 
larity,  both  North  and  South  of  the  Tweed.  This  popularity  has 
scarcely  ever  decayed.  It  was  translated  into  rhyming  Latin 
verses  by  a  Mr.  Wold  of  New  College,  Oxford,  at  the  instance  of 
Dr.  Compton,  Bishop  of  London,  in  1685. 

Vivat  Eex  noster  nobilis, 

Omnis  in  tuto  sit; 
Venatus  olim  flebilis 

Cherino  luco  fit. 

It  circulated  on  many  a  broad    sheet,     It  was  eulogised  in 


CHEUY    CHASE. 


the  Spectator  in  Queen  Anne's  reign.  It  was  printed  wherever 
anything  of  the  kind  was  printed  in  the  succeeding  years,  when 
such  things  were  held  in  but  slight  esteem. 
Epic  of  Border  poetry. 


It  is  as  it  were  the 


(jOD  Prosper  long  our  noble  King, 

our  liffes  &  saftyes  all ! 
a  woefull  hunting  once  there  was 
4         in  Cheuy  Chase  befall. 

to  driue  the  deere  with  hound  and  home 

Erie  Pearcy  took  the  way  : 
the  Child  may  rue  that  is  vnborne 
8         the  hunting  of  that  day  ! 


[page 


A  woeful 
hunt  was 
held  in 
Chevy 
Chase. 


Earl  Percy 


the  stout  Erie  of  Northumberland 

a  vow  to  god  did  make, 
his  pleasure  in  the  Scottish  woods 
12          3  sommers  days  to  take  ; 


vowed  to 
kill  Scotch 
deer  for 
three  days. 


the  cheefest  harts  in  Cheuy  C[h]ase 

to  kill  &  beare  away, 
these  tydings  to  Erie  douglas  came 
16          in  Scottland  where  he  Lay, 

who  sent  Erie  Pearcy  present  word 

he  wold  prevent  his  sport, 
the  English  Erie,  not  fearing  that,1 
20          did  to  the  woods  resort 


Douglas 


said  he'd 
stop  that 
sport. 

But  Percy 

went  to  his 
hunt 


w^th  1500  2  bowmen  bold, 

all  chosen  men  of  Might, 
who  knew  ffull  well  in  time  of  neede 

to  ayme  their  shafts  arright. 


with  1500 
bowmen, 


this.— P. 


2000.— P. 


CHEUY   CHASE. 


and  on 
Monday 
began  his 
hunt. 


By  noon  100 
bucks  are 
slain. 

After 
dinner,  they 


hunt  again, 


and  the  hills 
echo  their 
cries. 


the  G-allant  Greyhound  l  swiftly  ran 

to  Chase  the  fallow  deere  ; 
on  Munday  they  began  to  hunt 
28          ere  2  daylight  did  appeare  ; 

&  long  before  high  noone  the  had 

a  100  fatbuckes  slaine. 
then  hauing  dined,  the  dronyers  went 
32          to  ronze  the  deare  3  againe  ; 

The  Bowmen  mustered  on  the  hills, 

well  able  to  endure  ; 
theire  backsids  all  w^'th  speciall  care 
36          thai  they  4  were  guarded  sure. 

the  hounds  ran  swiftly  through  the  woods 

the  Nimble  deere  to  take, 
that  wi\Jh  5  their  cryes  the  hills  &  dales 
40          an  Eccho  shrill  did  make. 


Percy 


wonders 
whether 
Douglas  will 
appear. 


'There  he  is, 


with  2000 
men  1 " 


Lord  Pearcy  to  the  Querry  6  went 

to  veiw  the  tender  deere  ; 
qwoth  he,  "  Erie  douglas  promised  once 
44          this  day  to  meete  me  heere ; 

"  but  if  I  thought  he  wold  not  come, 

noe  longer  wold  I  stay." 
with  that  a  braue  younge  gentlman 
48         thus  to  the  Erie  did  say, 

"  Loe,  yonder  doth  Erie  douglas  come, 

hys  men  in  armour  bright, 
full  20  hundred  7  Scottish  speres 
52          all  Marching  in  our  sight, 


1  greyhounds. — P. 

2  when.— P. 

8  them  up. — P. 
4  that  day  .—P. 


5  And  with.— P. 

6  Quarry.— P. 

7  15,00.— P. 


CHEUY   CHASE. 

"  all  pleasant  men  of  Tiny  dale  * 

fast  by  the  riuer  Tweede." 
"  0  ceaze  yowr  sportts  !  "  2  Erie  Pearcy  said.  Percy  calls 

on  his  men 

.•56  and  take  yowr  bowes  w^th  speede, 

"  &  now  w^'th  me,  my  countrymen, 

yo^r  courage  forth  advance  !  to  be  brave  ; 

for  there  was  neuer  Champion  yett  3 
60          in  Scottland  nor  in  ffrance 

"  that  euer  did  on  horsbacke  come,  he  win  fight 

P    •  P  ^          A  -i  anyone, 

&  if  my  hap  4  it  were, 

I  durst  encounter  man  for  man,  man  to  man. 

64          with  him  to  breake  a  spere." 

Erie  douglas  on  his  5  Milke  white  steede,  Douglas 

Most  Like  a  Baron  bold, 
rode  formost  of  his  company, 
68          whose  armour  shone  like  gold  :  [page  iso] 

"  shew  me,"  sayd  hee,  •"  whose  men  you  bee  asks  whose 

men  they  are 

thai  hunt  soe  boldly  heere,  that  huut 

that  without  my  consent  doe  chase 
72          &  kill  my  fallow  deere."  his  deer. 

the  first  man  that  did  6  answer  make 

was  noble  Pearcy  hee,  Percy 

who  sayd,  "  wee  list  not  to  declare,  will  not  tell, 

76          nor  shew  whose  men  wee  bee, 

"  yett  wee  will7  spend  our  deerest  blood  fightforthe 


thy  cheefest  8  harts  to  slay." 

then  douglas  swore  a  solempne  oathe,                            Douglas 
80          and  thus  in  rage  did  say, 

1  men  of  pleasant  Tiviotdale.—  P.  5  a.—  P  . 

*  Then  cease  sport.  —  P.  6  man  that  first  did.  —  P. 
8  For  ne'er  was  there  a  chawpion.  —  P.  7  will  we.  —  P. 

*  but  if  my  hap.  —  P.  8  the  choicest,—  P. 


10 


CHEUY   CHASE. 


that  one  of 
them  must 
die, 


and  as  it 

would 

be  wrong  to 

kill  their 

guiltless 

men, 


he  chal 
lenges  Percy 
to  single 
combat. 
Percy 
accepts. 


A  squire, 

Withering- 
ton, 
protests 


that  he'll 
not  look  on 
while  Percy 
fights: 


he'll  fight 
too. 


The  English 
archers 
shoot,  and 
kill  80  Scots. 


"Ere  thus  I  will  outbraued  bee, 

one  of  vs  tow  shall  dye  ! 
I  know  thee  well !  an  Erie  thou  art, 
84         Lord  Pearcy  !  soe  am  I ; 

"  but  trust  me,  Pearcye,  pittye  it  were, 

&  great  offence,  to  Kill 
then  any  of  these  our  guiltlesse  l  men, 
88        for  they  haue  done  none  ill 2 ; 

"  Let  thou  3  &  I  the  battell  trye, 

and  set  our  men  aside." 
"  accurst  bee  [he  !]  "  Erie  4  Pearcye  sayd, 
92        "by  whome  it  is  denyed." 

then  stept  a  gallant  Squire  forth, — 

witherington  was  his  name, — 
who  said,  "  I  wold  not  haue  it  told 
96        to  Henery  our  ~King,  for  shame, 

"  that  ere  my  captaine  fought  on  foote, 

&  I  stand  looking  on : 
you  bee  2  Erles,"  5  q^oth  witheringhton, 
100          "  &  I  a  Squier  alone, 

"  He  doe  the  best  thai  doe  I  may,6 

while  I  haue  power  to  stand  ! 
while  I  haue  power  to  weeld  my  7  sword, 
104          He  fight  w^th  hart  &  hand !  " 

Our  English  archers  bend  8  their  bowes — 

their  harts  were  good  &  trew, — 
att  the  first  flight  of  arrowes  sent, 
108          full  foure  score  scotts  9  the  slew. 


1  harmless. — P. 

2  no  ill.— P. 
8  thee.— P. 

4  he,  Lord.— P. 

5  Lords.- P. 


6  that  e'er  I  may. — P. 

7  a.— P. 

8  Scottish  bent— P. 

9  they  4  score  English. — P. 


CHEUY    CHASE. 


11 


112 


to  driue  the  deere  with  hound  &  home, 

dauglas  l  Bade  on  the  bent ; 
2  Captaines  2  moued  w^th  Mickle  might,3 

their  speres  to  shiuers  went. 


they  closed  full  fast  on  euerye  side, 

noe  slacknes  there  was  found, 
but 4  many  a  gallant  gentleman 
116          Lay  gasping  on  the  ground. 


The  foes 
close, 


and  many 
are  slain. 


0  Christ !  it  was  great  greeue  5  to  see 

how  eche  man  chose  his  spere,6 
&  how  the  blood  out  of  their  brests  7 
120          did  gush  like  water  cleare  !  8 


Christ!  it 
was  sad  to 


at  last  these  2  stout  Erles  9  did  meet 

Like  Captaines  of  great  might ; 
like  Lyons  moods  10  they  Layd  on  Lode,11 
124          the  made  a  cruell  fight. 


Percy  and 
Douglas 


fight 


the  fought,  vntill  they  both  did  sweat, 

w^'th  swords  of  tempered  steele, 
till  blood  [a-]downe  their  cheekes  like  raine 
128          the  trickling  downe  did  feele.12 


till  their 
blood  drops 
like  rain. 


"  0  yeeld  thee,  Pearcye !  "  13  Douglas  sayd, 

"  &  14  infaith  I  will  thee  bringe 
where  thou  shall  high  advanced  bee 
132          by  lames  our  Scottish  King  ; 


Douglas 
calls  on 
Percy  to 
yield. 


1  The  Scotch  Editor  thinks  this  sh?  be 
Piercy.— P. 

a  cap*.  — P. 

pride.— P. 

and.— P. 

grief. — P. 

And  likewise  for  to  hear. — P. 

The  Cries   of  Men   lying  in  their 
gore. — P. 

8  And  lying  here  &  there. — P. 


9  Lords.— P. 

10  mov'd. — P.     ?  for  woode,  wild. — F. 
or  '  the  mood  or  pluck  '  of  lions. — Skeat. 

11  ?  A.-S.  leod,  a  man  ;  or  for  hlude, 
loudly. — F.     or  (a)load,  laid  on  heavily. 
—Skeat. 

12  Until  the  blood  like  drops  of  rain 
They  trickling  down  did  feel. — P. 

13  yield  the  Lord  P.— P. 

14  d.— P. 


12 


CHEUY   CHASE. 


136 


"  thy  ransome  I  will  freely  giue, 

&  this  1  report  of  thee, 
thou  art  the  most  couragious  "Knight 

[that  ever  I  did  see.2]  " 


Percy  will 
never  yield 
to  a  Scot. 


"JNoe,  Douglas  !  "  q^oth  Erie3  Percy  then,    [pagei90 

"  thy  profer  I  doe  scorne  ; 
I  will  not  yeelde  to  any  scott 
140         that  euer  yett  was  borne  !  " 


An  English 
arrow 


kills 
Douglas, 


w^th  that  there  came  an  arrow  keene 

out  of  an  english  bow, 
who  4  scorke  Erie  douglas  on  the  brest 5 
144          a  deepe  and  deadly e  blow  ; 


exhorting 
his  men  to 
fight. 


who  neuer  sayd  6  more  words  then  these, 

"  fight  on,  my  merrymen  all ! 
for  why,  my  life  is  att  [an]  end, 
148          Lord  Pearcy  sees  my  7  fall." 


Percy 


laments 
over  his 
dead  foe : 


then  leaning  liffe,  Erie  Pearcy  tooke 

the  dead  man  by  the  hand  ; 
who  8  said,  "  Erie  dowglas  !  for  thy  9  sake 
152          wold  I  had  lost  my  Land  ! 


a  braver 
knight  ne'er 
died. 


"  0  christ !  my  verry  hart  doth  bleed 

for  10  sorrow  for  thy  sake  ! 
for  sure,  a  more  redoubted  u  ~Knight, 
156          Mischance  cold  12  neuer  take  !  " 


1  thus.— P. 

2  That  ever  I  did  see. — P. 
8  Lord.— P. 

4  which. — P.  scorke,  for  storke,  stroke, 
struck ;  sJcorke  means  scorch ;  see 
skorche  in  Halliwell's  Gloss. — F. 

1  to  ye  heart.— P. 


spake. — P. 
me.— P. 
And.— P. 
life.— P. 

I  with.— P. 

II  renowned. — P. 
12  did.— P. 


CHEUY   CHASE. 


13 


100 


a  Knight  amongst  the  scotts  there  was, 
which  l  saw  Erie  Douglas  dye, 

who  streight  in  hart  did  vow  revenge 
vpon  the  Lord  2  Pearcye  ; 


A  Scotch 
knight, 
Sir  Hugh 
Montgom 
ery,  vows 
revenge  on 
Percy, 


2?  parte.  . 


[Part  II.] 

Sir  Hugh  Mountgomerye  was  he  called, 
who,  with  a  spere  full  bright, 

well  mounted  on  a  gallant  steed, 
ran  feircly  through  the  fight, 


gallops  to 


And  3  past  the  English  archers  all 

without  all  dread  or  feare, 
&  through  Erie  Percyes  Body  then 
168          he  thrust  his  hatfull  spere 


him,  and 
runs  him 


such  a  vehement  force  &  might 
that  his  body  he  did  gore,4 
the  staff  ran  5  through  the  other  side 
172          a  large  cloth  yard  &  more. 


right 

through  the 
body. 


thus  6  did  both  those  Nobles  dye, 
whose  courage  none  cold  staine. 
an  English  archer  then  perceiued 
176          the  Noble  Erie  was  slaine, 


An  English 
archer 


he  had  [a]  good  bow  7  in  his  hand 

made  of  a  trusty  tree  ; 
an  arrow  of  a  cloth  yard  long  8 
180          to  the  hard  head  haled  9  hee, 


1  that.— P. 

2  Earl.— P. 
8  He.— P. 


4  His  body  he  did  gore. — P. 

5  spear  went. — P. 


6  So  thus. — P. 

7  a  bow  bent. — P. 

8  length.— P. 

9  unto  the  head  drew. — P. 


14 


CHEUY   CHASE. 


shoots  Mont 
gomery 


through  the 
heart. 


184 


against  Sir  Hugh  Mountgomerye  l 
his  shaft  full  right  2  he  sett ; 

the  grey  goose  winge  thai  was  there-on, 
in  his  harts  bloode  3  was  wett. 


The  fight 
lasts  all  day. 


this  fight  from  breake  of  day  did  last 4 

till  setting  of  the  sun, 
for  when  the  rung  the  Euening  bell 
188          the  Battele  scarse  was  done. 


Names  of 
the  English 
knights 
slain. 


w^th  5  stout  Erie  Percy  there  was  slaine  6 

SIT  lohn  of  Egerton,7 
Sir  Robert  Harclifle  &  Sir  William,8 
192          Sir  lames  that  bold  barron ; 


&  with  S^r  George  &  9  S^r  lames, 
both  Knights  of  good  account ; 
&  good  Sir  Baphe  Rebbye  10  there  was  slaine, 
196          whose  prowesse  n  did  surmount. 


Withering- 
ton  fights  on 
his  stumps 
when  his 
legs  are  cut 
off. 


200 


for  witherington  needs  must  I  wayle 
as  one  in  too  full l2  dumpes, 

for  when  his  leggs  were  smitten  of, 
he  fought  vpon  his  stumpes. 


Names  of 
the  Scotch 
knights 
slain. 


And  w^th  Erie  dowglas  there  was  slaine 

S^r  Hugh  Mountgomerye, 
13  &  Sir  Charles  Morrell l4  that  from  feelde 
204          one  foote  wold  neuer  flee  ; 


1  then.— P. 

2  so  right  his  shaft. — P. 
8  heart-blood.— P. 

4  did  last  from  break. — P. 

5  the.— P. 

8  There  is  a  dot  for  the  i,  but  nothing 
more  in  the  MS. — F. 
7  Ogerton.— P. 


8  Katcliffe  &  Sir  John.— P. 

9  Sir  George  also  &  good. — P. 

10  Good  ....  Rabby.— P. 

11  courage. — P. 

12  doleful.— P. 
JS  d.— P. 

14  Murray.— P. 


CHEUY   CHASE. 


15 


Sir  Roger  Heuer  of  Harcliffe  tow,  —  l 

his  sisters  sonne  was  hee,-  — 
S*'r  david  Lambwell  well  2  esteemed, 
208          but  saved  he  cold  3  not  bee  ; 


&  the  LonZ  Maxwell  in  like  case  4 

with  Douglas  he  did  dye  ;  5 
6  of  20  7  hundred  Scottish  speeres, 

K  K      ,  .  T     n 

212          scarce  55  did  flye  ; 


Of  2000 

Scotch 

scarce  55 

were  left  ; 


of  1500  Englishmen 

went  home  but  53  6  ; 
the  rest  in  Cheuy  chase  were  slaine, 
216          Vnder  the  greenwoode  tree. 


ofisoo 


Next  day  did  many  widdowes  come 

their  husbands  to  bewayle  ; 
they  washt  8  their  wounds  in  brinish  teares, 
220          but  all  wold  not  9  prevayle. 


Next  day 

the  widows 

come, 

and  weep, 


theyr  bodyes  bathed  in  purple  blood, 

J  f 

the  bore  with  them  away, 
they  kist  them  dead  a  1000  times 
224          ere  the  10  were  cladd  in  clay. 


and  carry 

the  corpses 

off 


to  the  grave. 


the  ll  newes  was  12  brought  to  Eddenborrow 

where  Scottlands  King  did  rayne, 
that  braue  Erie  Douglas  soddainlye 
228          was  with  an  arrow  slaine. 


Sir  Cha.  Murray  of  Katcliffe  too.  —  P. 
Lamb  so  well.  —  P. 
yet  saved  could.—  P. 
wise.—  P. 

did  with  Earl  D".  die.  —  P. 
—  6  Of  1500  Scottish  spears 
went  home  but  53, 


Of  20,00  Englishmen 
scarce  55  did  flee.  —  P. 

7  15.—  P. 

8  MS.  they  washt  they.—  F.     d.—  P. 

9  could  not.  —  P. 
10  when  they.—  P. 

»  These.  —  P.  12  were.  —  P. 


16 


CHEUY   CHASE. 


King  James 
laments  the 
loss  of 
Douglas. 
No  such 
captain  has 
he  left. 


"  l  0  heauy  newes  !  "  ~King  lames  can  say, 

"  Scottland  may  wittenesse  bee 
I  haue  not  any  Capt&me  more 
232          of  such  account  as  hee  !  " 


King  Henry 


laments 
Percy's  loss ; 


he  has  500 
as  good  still 
left, 


but  he  will 
take  ven 
geance 

for  Percy's 
death. 

And  he  did 
on  Humble 
Downe, 

killing 
Lords,  and 


hundreds  of 
less  account. 


God  grant 


that  strife 
between 
noble  men 
may  cease  1 


like  tydings  to  ~K.ing  Henery  came 

within  as  short  a  space, 
thai  Pearcy  of  Northumberland 
236          in  Cheuy  chase  was  slaine.2 

"Now  god  be  with  him  !  "  said  our 

"  sith  it  will  noe  better  bee,3 
I  trust  I  haue  within  my  realme 
240          500  as  good  as  hee  ! 

"  4  yett  shall  not  Scotts  nor  Scottland  say 

but  I  will  vengeance  take, 
&  be  revenged  on  them  all 
244          for  braue  Erie  Percyes  sake." 

4  this  vow  the  'King  did  well  performe 

after  on  humble  downe  ; 
in  one  day  50  'Knighis  were  slayne, 
248          with  Lords  of  great  renowne, 

&  5  of  the  rest  of  small  6  account, 

did  many  hundreds  dye  : 
thus  endeth  the  hunting  in  7  Cheuy  Chase 
252          made  8  by  the  Erie  Pearcye. 

God  saue  our  9  ~King,  and  blesse  this  10  land 

with  plentye,  Toy,  &  peace  ; 
&  grant  hencforth  thai  foule  debate 
256          twixt  noble  men  may  ceaze  ! 
ffins. 


1  Now  God  be  with  him,  cried,  our  king, 

Sith  will  no  better  be  ! 
I  trust  I  have  &c.— P. 

2  Was  slain  in  Chevy  Chase. — P. 

3  0  heavy  news,  K.  Henry  said, 

Engl?  can  witness  be. — P. 


4  These  2  stanzas  omitted  in  ye  Scotch 
Edition.— P.     See  note,  p.  1.— R 


5  Now.— P. 
7  of.— P. 
9  the.— P. 


6  mean. — P. 
8  led.— P. 
10  the.— P. 


17 


£mte  inftft  fmtonfinelr* 


LOVELACE'S  songs  were  in  great  request  in  his  day.  They  were 
set  to  music  by  popular  composers  of  the  time,  —  by  Dr.  John 
Wilson,  by  Mr.  John  Laniere,  by  Mr.  Henry  Lawes  whom  Dante 
was  to  give  Fame  leave  to  set  higher  than  his  Casella  —  and 
circulated  widely  in  .Royalist  Society.  Till  1649  —  the  author 
was  born  in  1618  —  they  led  a  scattered  and  wandering  life.  In 
that  year  they  were  gathered  together  and  published  in  a  volume 
entitled  "  Lucasta,  Epodes,  Odes,  Sonnets,  Songs,  &c.  to  which  is 
added  Aramantha  a  Pastorall,  by  Richard  Lovelace,  Esq."  Mean 
while  there  were,  no  doubt,  in  vogue  many  versions  of  the  greater 
favourites,  more  or  less  inaccurate.  The  copy  of  the  exquisite 
song  beginnip'  \en  Love  with  unconfined  wings,"  here 

printed  fro"  MS.,  is  one  of  these. 

Of  0r  ts  Lovelace  is  the  most  charming.     He 

is  p  true  poet.     The  world,  that  has  long 

wley  and  Cleveland,  still  listens  to 
f  gems  brighter  than  his  song  "  to 

mor  that  to  "  Althea  from  Prison  "  ? 
x  ,f  ^ 

%£?  '      them  !     How  tremulously  delicate 

Aess.     The  son  of  a  Kentish  knight, 
and  at  Gloucester  Hall,  Oxford, 


ooi.  John  Lovelase  [t.i.       Oxon.  Vol.  2?     Written  by  the  Author 
elace].     See  Wood's  Athena      when  imprison'd.  —  P. 


18  WHEN   LOUE   WITH   VNCONFINED   WINGS. 

"  the  most  amiable  and  beautiful  person  that  eye  ever  beheld,  a 
person  also  of  innate  modesty,  virtue  and  courtly  deportment, 
which  made  him  then  [at  Oxford],  but  especially  after,  when  he 
retired  to  the  great  city,  most  admired  and  adored  by  the  female 
sex."  Thus  physically  endowed,  thus  happily  circumstanced,  he 
was  yet  crossed  in  love,  and  died  in  a  state  of  destitution. 

Lucy  Sacheverell — the  Lux  Casta  or  Lucasta  of  his  poems, 
from  the  nunnery  of  whose  chaste  breast  and  quiet  mind  he  had 
fled  to  war  and  arms,  that  "  dear "  whom  he  loved  so  much 
because  he  loved  honour  more — misled  by  a  report  that  he  had 
died  of  wounds  received  at  Dunkirk  while  commanding  a  regi 
ment,  of  his  own  forming,  in  the  service  of  the  French  king, 
became  the  wife  of  somebody  else.  The  close  of  the  civil  war, 
in  which  he  had  devoted  both  his  services  and  his  fortunes  to  his 
king's  cause,  found  him  beggared.  His  loyalist  zeal  got  him 
twice  into  prison.  "  During  the  time  of  his  confinement,"  says 
Wood  of  the  first  imprisonment,  "  he  lived  beyond  the  income  of 
his  estate,  either  to  keep  up  the  credit  and  reputation  of  the 
king's  cause  by  furnishing  men  with  horses  and  arms,  or  by 
relieving  ingenious  men  in  want,  whether  scholars,  musicians, 
soldiers,  &c. ;  also  by  furnishing  his  two  brothers  Colonel  Franc. 
Lovelace,  and  Capt.  Will.  Lovelace  (afterwards  slain  at  Caer- 
marthen)  with  men  and  money  for  the  king's  cause,  and  his 
other  brother  called  Dudley  Posthumus  Lovelace  with  monys 
for  his  maintenance  in  Holland  to  study  tactics  of  fortification  in 
that  school  of  war."  "After  the  murther  of  King  Charles  I., 
Lovelace  was  set  at  liberty  [from  his  second  captivity],  and 
having  by  that  time  consumed  all  his  estate,  grew  very  melan 
choly  (which  brought  him  at  length  into  a  consumption),  became 
very  poor  in  body  and  purse,  was  the  object  of  charity,  went  in 
ragged  cloaths  (whereas  when  he  was  in  his  glory  he  wore  cloth  of 
gold  and  silver),  and  mostly  lodged  in  obscure  and  dirty  places, 
more  befitting  the  worst  of  beggars  and  poorest  of  servants,  &c.  .  . 


WHEN    LOUE   WITH    VNCONFINED    WINGS.  19 

He  died  in  a  very  mean  lodging  in  Gunpowder  alley  near  Shoe- 
lane,  and  was  buried  at  the  west  end  of  the  church  of  St.  Bride 
alias  Bridget  in  London,  near  to  the  body  of  his  kinsman,  Will. 
Lovelace  of  Gray's  Inn,  Esq." — "  Eichard  Lovelace,  Esq.,"  says 
Aubrey,  "  obiit  in  a  cellar  in  Long  Acre,  a  little  before  the 
restauration  of  his  matie.  Mr.  Edm.  Wyld,  &c.,  had  made 

collections  for  him  and  given  him  money Geo.  Petty, 

haberdasher,  in  Fleet  Street,  carryed  XXs  to  him  every  Munday 
morning  from  Sir  -  -  Many,  and  Charles  Cotton,  Esq.,  for 
months,  but  was  never  repay'd."  He  died  in  1658,  and  so  was 
saved  from  experiencing  Stuart  gratitude.  These  accounts  of 
his  dismal  indigence  may  perhaps  be  coloured.  But  there  can 
be  no  doubt  he  ended  in  extreme  poverty,  in  a  sad  contrast  to 
the  brilliancy  of  his  early  days. 

The  following  song  was  written  during  his  first  captivity.  He 
had  been  chosen  by  his  county  to  present  a  Petition  to  the  House 
of  Commons  "  for  the  restoring  of  the  king  to  his  rights,  and  for 
setling  the  government."  He  presented  it,  and  b}7  way  of  answer 
was  committed  to  the  Gate  House  at  Westminster.  But  his  mind, 
innocent  and  quiet,  took  his  prison  for  a  hermitage.  His  gaolers 
heard  him  singing  in  his  bonds.  Love  with  wings  that  brooked 
no  confinement  hovered  near  him.  Brought  by  that  chainless 
spirit,  the  divine  Althea  came  to  visit  him  in  his  durance.  She 
led  away  the  captive  into  a  second  captivity.  With  her  fair  hair 
she  wove  fresh  bonds  for  him  ;  she  laid  on  new  fetters  with  her 
eyes.  But  he  revelled  in  these  chains.  Having  freedom  in  his 
soul,  angels  alone  that  are  above  enjoyed  such  liberty. 


WHF  "  ^  vnconfmed  wings 

hovers  w£tnin  my  gates, 
&  my  divine  Althea  brings 
4          to  whisper  at  my  grates,  my  prison' 

c  2 


20 


WHEN   LOUE   WITH  VNCONFINED   WINGS. 


I  am  free 
as  a  bird. 


When  I, 
confined, 
sing  my 
king's 
goodness, 


I  am  free  as 
the  winds. 


12 


16 


when  I  lye  tangled  in  her  heere 

&  fettered  w^'th  her  eye, 
the  burds  that  wanton  in  the  ayre 

enioyes l  such  Lybertye. 

When,  Lynett  like  confined,  I 

with  shriller  note  shall  sing 
the  mercy,  goodnesse,  maiestye 

&  glory  of  my  kinge, 
when  I  shall  voice  aloud  how  good 

he  is,  how  great  shold  bee, 
the  enlarged  winds  that  curies  the  floods  2 

enioyes  such  Lybertye. 


When  I 
drink  with 
boon  com 
panions 


to  our  cause, 


I  am  as  free 
as  a  fish. 


When  flowing  cupps  run  swiftly  round 

w^'th  woe-allaying  theames, 
our  carlesse  heads  w^th  roses  crowned, 
20         our  harts  w^'th  Loyall  flames, 

when  thirsty  soules  in  wine  wee  steepe, 

when  cupps  and  bowles  goe  free, 
flashes  that  typle  in  the  deepe 
24         enioyes  such  Lybertye. 


Though  in 
prison, 


yet  with  a 
pure  soul 


and  free 
love, 


1  am  free  as 
an  angel. 


28 


32 


Stone  walls  doe  not  a  prison  make, 

nor  Iron  barrs  a  cage, 
the  spotlesse  soule  an[d]  Inocent 3 

Calls  this  an  hermitage.3 
if  I  haue  freedome  in  my  loue, 

&  in  my  soule  am  free, 
angells  alone  that  sores  aboue 

enioyes  such  Lybertye ! 

ffins. 


[page  192] 


1  This  final  s  and  several  others  have 
been  marked  through  by  a  later  hand. 
-F. 


2  flood.-P. 

3  These  lines   differ  from  the  usual 
reading. — Skeat. 


21 


SEVEEAL  collections  of  Waller's  Poems  appeared  as  early  as 
1645,  while  he  was  living  in  France.  The  first  edition  "corrected 
and  publish'd  with  the  approbation  of  the  Author  "  came  out  in 
1664,  "When  the  Author  of  these  verses,"  says  the  Printer  to 
the  Reader  in  this  one,  "  (written  only  to  please  himself  and  such 
particular  persons  to  whom  they  were  directed),  returned  from 
abroad  some  years  since,  He  was  troubled  to  find  his  name  in 
print,  but  somewhat  satisfied  to  see  his  lines  so  ill  rendered,  that 
he  might  justly  disown  them,  and  say  to  a  mistaking  Printer,  as 
one  did  to  an  ill  Reciter,  male  dum  recitas,  incipis  esse  tuum. 
Having  been  ever  since  pressed  to  correct  the  many  and  gross 
faults  (such  as  use  to  be  in  impressions  wholly  neglected  by  the 
authors)  his  answer  was,,  That  he  made  these  when  ill  verses  had 
more  favour  and  escaped  better  than  good  ones  do  in  this  age, 
the  severity  whereof  he  thought  not  unhappily  diverted  by  these 
faults  in  the  impression,  which  hitherto  have  hung  upon  his 
Book,  as  the  Turks  hang  old  raggs  (or  such  like  ugly  things) 
upon  their  fairest  Horses,  and  other  goodly  creatures,  to  secure 
them  against  fascination ;  and  for  those  of  a  more  confind 
understanding  (who  pretend  not  to  censure)  as  they  admire  most 
what  they  least  comprehend,  so  his  Verses  (mained  to  that  degree 
that  himself  scarce  knew  what  to  make  of  many  of  them),  might 
that  way  at  least  have  a  title  to  some  Admiration,  which  is  no 
small  matter,  if  what  an  old  Author  observes  be  true,  that  the 

1  An  elegant  old  song  written  by  Mr.  Waller.     See  his  Poems. — P. 


22  CLORIS. 

aim  of  Orators  is  Victory,  of  Historians  Truth,  and  of  Poets 
Admiration;  He  had  reason,  therefore,  to  indulge  those  faults 
in  his  Book  whereby  It  might  be  reconciled  to  some,  and 
commended  to  others."  But  the  considerations  expressed  in  this 
longwinded  and  somewhat  confusing  manner,  were  overcome  by 
the  importunity  of  the  worthy  Printer,  and  the  Poet  at  last  gave 
leave  "  to  assure  the  Eeader,  that  the  Poems  which  have  been  so 
long  and  so  ill  set  forth  under  his  name,  are  here  to  be  found  as 
he  first  writ  them,  as  also  to  add  some  others  which  have  since 
been  composed  by  him."  The  following  song  does  not  occur  in 
this  edition;  nor  in  that  of  1682,  "the  Fourth  Edition  with 
several  Additions  never  before  printed."  It  appears  in  that  of 
1711,  "the  eight  edition,  with  additions,"  and  no  doubt  in 
several  of  the  preceding  editions. 

The  song  is  a  fair  specimen  of  Waller's  average  style.  It 
exhibits  his  faults,  and  his  merits — his  affectation,  and  strained 
gallantry,  with  something  of  his  elegance  and  grace. 

His  life  was  not  a  noble  one.  He  was  not  inspired  by  that 
spirit  which  enabled  Lovelace  to  sing  that 

Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make,  Nor  iron  bars  a  cage. 

He  lived  from  1605  to  1687,  from  the  year  of  the  Gunpowder 
Treason  to  the  year  before  the  Kevolution.  He  sat  in  Parlia 
ment,  for  various  places,  from  his  nineteenth  year  to  his  death, 
except  from  1643  to  the  Restoration,  in  which  period  his 
connection  with  the  Eoyalist  Plot  of  1643  suspended  his 
public  life. 


cioris,  i  (jLORIS,  farwell !  I  needs  must  goe  ! 

must  go, 

for  if  with  thee  I  longer  stay, 

thine  eyes  prevayle  upon  me  soe, 

4         I  shall  grow  blynd  &  lose  my  way.1 

Lines  2,  3,  4,  are  almost  all  eaten  away  by  the  ink  of  the  title  at  the  back. — F. 


CLORIS. 


23 


ffame  of  thy  bewty  &  thy  youth, 

amongst  the  rest  me  hither  brought ; 

but  finding  fame  fall  short  of  truth, 
made  me  l  stay  longer  then  I  thought. 


Report 
brought  me 
hither ; 

your  beauty 
keeps  me. 


ffor  I  am  engaged  by  word  [and]  othe 

a  servant  to  anothers  will ; 
but  for  thy  loue  wold  forfitt  both, 
12          were  I  but  sure  to  keepe  itt  still. 


Though  I 
am  be 
trothed, 

I'd  break 
my  troth  if 
I  could 
secure  you  ; 


But  what  assurance  can  I  take, 

when  thou,  fore-knowing  this  abuse, 
for  some  [more  2]  worthy  louers  sake 
1 6          mayst  leaue  me  with  soe  lust  excuse. 


but  how 
could  I V 


You'd  jilt 
me,  and 


ffor  thou  wilt  say  it,  "  it  was  3  not  thy  fault 

that  I  to  thee  4  vnconstant  proue, 
but  were  by  mine  5  example  taught 
20          to  breake  thy  othe  to  mend  thy  loue." 


plead  my 
example  as 
your  excuse. 


Noe,  Cloris,  Noe  !  I  will  returne, 

&  rayse  thy  story  to  that  height 
that  strangers  shall  att  distance  burne, 
24          &  shee  distrust  thee  6  reprobate. 


No!  I'll  go, 
and  praise 
your  beauty 
from  afar, 


Then  shall  my  loue  this  Doubt  displace, 

&  gaine  the  trust  that  I  may  come 
&  sometimes  banquett  on  thy  face, 
28         but  make  my  constant  meales  att  home. 


seeing  yon 
sometimes 
but  loving 
my  own 
love. 


1  my.  Qu.— P. 

2  more. — P.    A  may  that  precedes  for 
in  the  MS.  is  crossed  out. — F. 

3  is.— P. 


4  thou  to  me.  Qu.— P. 

5  One  stroke  too  few  in  the  MS. — F. 

6  mee.  Qu.— P. 


24 


Cfje  fcfttge 

THIS  song  occurs  in  tfce  Roxburghe  Collection  of  Ballads, 
iii.  256,  in  the  Loyal  Garland  containing  choice  Songs  and 
Sonnets  of  our  late  Revolution  (London,  1671,  Reprinted  by 
the  Percy  Society),  in  a  Collection  of  Loyal  Songs,  in  Eitson's 
Ancient  Songs.  Mr.  Chappell,  in  his  Popular  Music  of  the 
Olden  Time,  ii.  434—9,  gives  the  air  to  which  it  was  sung,  along 
with  much  information  concerning  it  (which  should  be  read),  and 
nine  more  stanzas  than  are  included  in  our  Folio.  It  was  written 
by  Martin  Parker,  as  appears  from  the  following  extract  from 
the  Gossips'  Feast  or  Morall  Tales,  1647  :  "The  gossips  were 
well  pleased  with  the  contents  of  this  ancient  ballad,  and 
Crammer  Growty-legs  replied  '  By  my  faith,  Martin  Parker  never 
got  a  fairer  brat ;  no,  not  when  he  penn'd  that  sweet  ballad, 
When  the  King  injoyes  his  own  again.1 "  It  was  an  extreme 
favourite  with  the  Cavaliers. 

Booker,  Pond,  Rivers,  Swallow,  Dove,  Dade,  and  Hammond, 
were  eminent  astrologers  and  almanack-makers.  See  Eitson, 
and  Chappell,  ii.  437,  note  a. 


W  HAT  Booker  can  prognosticate, 
Who  can  consider [~ilng  now  the  kingdomes  state  ? 

foretell 

I  thinke  my  selfe  to  be  as  wise 
4     as  he  that  gaseth  2  on  the  skyes  ; 

my  skill  goes  beyond  the  depth  of  Pond  3 

or  Riuers  in  the  greatest  raine, 

Khig4m  wherby  I  can  tell  that  all  things  will  goe  well 

ownyagain?       8         when  the  King  enioyes  his  rights  againe. 

1  An  old  Caviller  Song. — P.  2  gazeth. — P.  3  ponds. — P. 


THE   KINGE  ENIOYES   HIS   RIGHTS   AGAINE. 


25 


10 


ere  is  neither  swallow,  done  nor  dade, 
can  sore  more  high,  or  deeper  wade 
to  shew  a  reason  from  the  starres, 
what  causeth  these  our  ciuill  warres. 
the  man  in  the  moone  may  weare  out  his  shoo[ne  T] 

in  running  after  Charles  his  wayne ; 
but  all  is  to  noe  end,  for  the  times  will'not  me[nd  2] 

till  the  JLing  enioyes  his  right  againe. 


No  stargazer 
can  tell 
what  causes 
our  civil 
wars. 


The  times 
won't  mend 
till  the  King 
has  his  own. 


ffull  40  yeeres  his  royall  crowne 

hath  beene  his  fathers  and  his  owne, 

&  is  there  any  more  nor  3  hee 
20    that  in  the  same  shold  sharrers  4  bee, 

or  who  better  may  the  scepter  sway 
then  he  that  hath  such  rights  to  raine  ? 

there  is  noe  hopes  of  a  peace,  or  the  war  to  ce[ase  5], 
24        till  the  JL-ing  enioyes  his  right  againe. 


Who  has 
better  right 
to  the  crown 
than  our 
King  ? 


Although  for  a  time  you  see  Whitehall 
with  cobwebbs  hanging  on  the  wall 
insteed  of  silkes  &  siluer  braue 
28     which  {formerly  ['t]  was  6  wont  [to]  haue, 
w^th  a  sweete  perfume  in  euerye  roome 

delightfull  to  that  princely  traine  : 
vfhich  againe  shalbe  when  the  times  you  sec 
32        thai  the  King  enioyes  his  right  againe.7 
ffins. 


[page  193] 


Though 
Whitehall  is 
all  cobwebs 
now, 

soon  it  will 
be  silks 


and  per 
fumes, 


when  the 
King  enjoys 
his  right 
again. 


1  shoone. — P. 

2  mend.— P. 
8  than.— P. 

4  sharers.— P. 


5  cease. — P. 


6  formerly  't  was.— P. 

7  This  fourth  stanza  is  put 
third  in   the   copy  that  Mr. 
prints,  ii.  438. 


ut  before  the 
Chappell 


€\>t 

THIS  song  under  the  title  of  Mark  Anthony  is  found,  minus 
w.  13-20  inclusive,  in  Poems  by  J.  G.  1651,  the  first  edition 
of  Cleveland's  Poems,  and  in  such  of  the  many  subsequent  ones 
as  we  have  examined,  those  of  1654  (B.  in  the  notes  below),  of 
1677  (C.  in  the  notes),  and  of  1687  (D.  in  the  notes).  Our  copy 
is  probably  a  bad  one  of  the  verses  before  they  were  printed, 
when  lines  13-20  were  cut  out.  The  song  is  marked  by  Cleve 
land's  characteristic  vigour  and  tendency  to  (<  conceits." 

John  Cleveland  sang  and  suffered  much  in  the  Royal  cause. 
Educated  at  Christ's  College,  elected  a  Fellow  of  St.  John's 
College,  Cambridge — "  To  cherish  such  hopes,"  says  an  old 
biographer  of  him,  "  the  Lady  Margaret  drew  forth  both  her 
breasts  " — he  joined  the  King  at  Oxford  when  the  breach  with 
the  Parliament  became  irreparable,  and  gallantly  adhered  to  the 
King's  fortunes  to  the  end.  After  the  capture  of  Newark,  when 
he  was  Judge  Advocate,  he  seems  to  have  led,  for  some  years,  a 
life  of  wretched  vagrancy.  In  1655  he  was  taken  prisoner.  He 
made  an  appeal  to  Cromwell,  which  was  heard.  He  did  not  live 
to  see  the  restoration  of  the  race  which  he  had  served  with  all  his 
trenchant  wit,  with  the  truest  devotion.  April  29,  1659,  is  the 
date  of  his  death. 

As  the  copy  in  our  folio  MS.  is  corrupt  in  many  places,  we 
give  here  the  copy  from, the  first  edition  of  1651,  collated  with 
the  editions  of  1654,  1677,  and  1687. 

MARK  ANTHONY. 

WHEN  as  the  Nightingale  chanted  her  Vespers, 
And  the  wild  Forester  couch'd  on  the  ground, 
Venus  invited  me  in  th'  Evening  whispers, 
4    Unto  a  fragrant  field  with  Eoses  crown 'd : 


1  Not  an  inelegant  old  song.     Corrected  by  an  Edition  in  Cleveland's  Poems. 
12™°  1687.  p.  65.— P. 


THE   ^EGIPTIAN    QUENE.  27 

Where  she  before  had  sent 
My  wishes  complement, 
Unto  my  hearts  content 
8         Plaid  with  me  on  the  Green, 

Never  Mark  Anthony 

Dallied  more  wantonly 

With  the  fair  Egyptian  Queen. 

12     First  on  her  cherry  cheeks  I  mine  eyes  feasted, 
Then1  fear  of  surfeiting  made  me  retire : 
Next  on  her  warm2  lips,  which  when  I  tasted, 
My  duller  spirits  made 3  active  as  fire. 
16         Then  we  began  to  dart 
Each  at  anothers  heart, 
Arrows  that  knew  no  smart : 
Sweet  lips  and  smiles  between, 

20  Never  Mark,  $c. 

Wanting  a  glass  to  plate  her  amber  tresses, 
Which  like  a  bracelet  rich  decked  mine  arm, 
Gawdier  then  Juno  wears  when  as  she  graces 

21  Jove  with  embraces  more  stately  than  warm. 

Then  did  she  peep  in  mine 
Eyes  humour  Christalline  ; 
I  in  her  eyes  was  seen, 
28         As  if  we  one  had  been. 
Never  Mark,  $c. 

Mystical  Grammar  of  amorous  glances, 
Feeling  of  pulses  the  Physick  of  Love, 
32     Khetorical  courtings  and  Musical  Dances  ; 
Numbring  of  kisses  Arithmetick  prove. 
Eyes  like  Astronomy, 
Str eight  limb'd  Geometry  : 
36         In  her  heart's  ingeny 

Our  wits  are  sharp  and  keen. 
Never  Mark,  cf-c. 


WHEN"  as  the  Nightingale  chanted  her  vesper,4  At  eve 

&  the  wyld  fayryes  lay  coucht 5  on  the  ground, 
Venus  invited  me  to  an  euening  "Wisper,6  my  Love 

t,        ,  .  ,  invited  me 

4         to  fragrant  feelds  7  with  roses  crounde  to  toy  with 

1  Thence. — B.  C.  D.  forresters,  i.e.  the  deer,  the  Inhabitants 

2  warmer.— B.  C.  D.  of  the  forrest.— P. 

8  made  me. — C.  D.  6  in  th'  evening  whispers. — P. 

4  her  vespers.— P.  7  Unto  a  frag1,  field.— P. 

5  forrester  coucht.      I  w*    read  here 


28 


THE   ^EGUPTIAN    QUENE. 


her  in  the 
fields. 


We  dallied 
like  Antony 
and  Cleo-  8 

patra. 

I  looked  at 
her  cheeks, 


kissed  her 
lips, 

pressed  her 
hand, 


twined  mine 
in  her  hair, 


gazed  in  her 

eyes. 


Her  tresses 
deckt  my 


12 


16 


20 


24 


which l  shee  before  had  sent  her  cheefest  complement, 
Vnto    my2  harts  content   sport3   with   me  on  the 
greene ; 

Neuer  marke  Anthony  dallyed  more  wantonly 
W^'th  his  fayre  ^Egiptian  queene4  ! 

ffirst  on  her  Cherry  cheekes  I  my  eyes  5^  feasted ; 

thence  feare  of  surffetting  made  me  retyre, 
then  to  her  warmed  [lips],6  which  when  I  tasted, 

my  spiritts  duld  were  made  actiue  by  7  fyer. 
8  this  heat  againe  to  calme,  her  moyst  hand  yeelderd 
balme ; 

whilest  wee  loyned 9  palme  to  palme  as  if  wee  one 

had  beene, 
Neuer  marke  Anthony  dallyed  more  wantonly 

with  his  fayre  Cor  10  egiptian  queene  ! 

Then  in  her  golden  heere  n  I  my  hands  twined ; 

shee  her  hands  in  my  lockes  twisted  againe, 
as  if  her  heere  had  beene  fetters  assigned, 

Sweet  litle  Cupid  12  Loose  captiue  13  to  chayne  ; 
soe  did  wee  often  dart  one  at  anothers  hart 

arrows   thai   felt 14   noe   smart,    sweet    lookes    and 

smiles  }  5  between. 
Neuer,  &c. 

Wa[yting  a  glass  to  platt]  those  amorus  tresses 16 
which  like  a  [bracelet]  deckt  richly  mine  arme, 


1  Where. — P.     For  her  cheefest  Percy 
puts  my  wishes. — F. 

2  And  to  my.  query. — P. 
8  Play'd.— P. 

4  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS. — F. 
6  mine  eyes. — P. 

6  warmer  lips. — P. 

7  active  as. — P. 

8  N.B.   from    hence    to    [So  did  we 
often  dart]  is  wanting   in   the   printed 
Copy.— P. 

9  A  if  is  between  loyned  and  palme  in 
the  MS.      as  if  wee  one  had  beene  has 
been  first  written  as  a  separate  line,  then 


struck  out  and  written  after  palme  ;  then 
one  had  bee"  was  struck  out,  and  copied 
in  again  by  Percy. — F. 

10  ?  MS.— F. 

11  haire.— P. 

12  After  the  d  Percy  puts  '*.— F. 

13  After  the  e  Percy  adds  s. — F. 

14  fett,  fetch'd. — query:  it  is  knew  no 
sm*   in  print. — P. 

15  Lipps  and  smiles. — P. 

16  "Wayting  a  glass  to  platt  (plait)  her 
amber  tresses. — P.      The    ink   of    the 
heading    The  king  enioyes  on  the  back 
has  eaten  the  MS.  away. — F. 


THE    ^EGIPTIAN    QUENE. 


29 


eraudyer  then  luno  was  which l  when  shee  blessed 2        arm  like  a 

bracelet ; 

loue  w^th  Euers  races  3  more  richly  4  thein  warme. 
28      shee  sweetely  peept  in  eyne  thai  was  more  cristalline, 

which  by  reflection  shine  ech  eye  and  eye  was  seene.  she  peept 

"  sweetly  at 

.Neuer,  &c.  me, 


.32 


,10 


Misticall  grammers5  of6  amorus  glances, 

feeling  of  pulses,  the  phisicke  of  loue, 
Retoricall  courtings  &  musicall  dances, 

numbring  of  kisses  arithemeticke  proues  7  ; 
Eyes  like  astronomy,  strayght  limbes  geometry, 

in  her  harts  enginy  8  ther  eyes  &  eyes  were  seene.1 
Neuer,  &c. 

ffins. 


and  in  her 
glances 


I  saw  kisses 
alone. 


1  Jiino  wears. — P. 

2  presses  (graces)  Pr.  Copy. — P. 

3  So  in  the  MS.— F.     embraces. — P. 

4  stately.  P.O.— P. 

5  grammars;    grammar  of:  pr.  Copy. 
— P.  Note  the  Seven  Sciences — Grammar, 
Physic,    Khetoric,    Music,    Arithmetic, 


Astronomy,  Geometry. — Skeat. 

6  are.  query. — P. 

7  prove,  p.c. — P. 

8  Arts  Ingeny. — P. 

"  our    wits  were     sharp    and    keen. 
Printed  Copy. — P. 


["  The  Mode  of  France"  and  "  Be  not  affray  d"  printed  in  Lo.  and 
Hum.  Songs,  p.  45-8,  follow  here  in  the  MS.~\ 


30 


me  ffanrpe, 


THIS  song,  says  Percy's  marginal  note,  is  "  printed  in  a  collection 
of  Scots  Poems,  Edingboro',  1713,  pag.  142." 

Mens  prcetrepidans  avet  vagari.  Led  by  Fancy,  it  throws  off 
for  the  nonce  the  fetters  of  the  body,  and  "  dances  through  the 
welkin."  It  inspects  the  phenomena  of  cloudland,  rejoices  rerum 
cognoscere  causas.  Then,  turning  its  gaze  downwards,  it  studies 
that  great  ant-hill  the  earth.  It  sees  mankind  rushing  to  and 
fro  upon  it,  with  all  their  various  pursuits,  humours,  passions. 
At  last  the  much-travelled  spirit  wearies.  Its  wings  droop,  and  it 
implores  its  ever-vigorous  guide  to  lead  it  no  further.  The  great 
world-prospect,  with  its  tumult  and  turmoil,  is  too  tremendous  a 
vision.  So  the  spirit  hies  it  back  to  its  home,  the  body. 


Melancholy, 
I  dance 

like  an  elf 

over  moun 
tains, 
plains, 
and  woods. 


±N:  a  Melancholly  fancy,  out  of  my  selfe, 

thorrow  the  welkin  dance  I, 

all  the  world  survayinge,  noe  where  stayinge ; 

like  vnto  the  fierye  elfe,1 

over  the  topps  of  hyest  mountaines  skipping, 

oner  the  plaines,  the  woods,  the  valleys,  tripping,2 

oner  the  seas  withont  oare  of3  shipping, 

hollow,  me  fancy !  wither  wilt  thon  goe  ? 


1  fairy  elfe.— P. 


Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 


3  oare  or.— P. 


HOLLOWE    ME    FANCYE. 


31 


16 


24 


28 


I'd  like  to 

see  what  the 

stars  and 

meteors  are  ; 


Amydst  the  cloudy  vapors,  faine  wold  I  see 

,,.,,. 

what  are  those  burning  tapors 

7-11        -11  -i      «>  •    n  i 

which  benight  vs  and  affright  vs, 

&  what  the  Meetors  l  bee. 

fFaine  wold  I  know  what  is  the  roaring  thunder,    [page  195] 

&  the  bright  Lightning  which  cleeues  the  clouds  in 

SUnder,  lightning, 

&  what  the  cometts  are  att  which  men  gaze  &  wonder,   and  comets. 
Hollow,  me  &c. 


Looke  but  downe  below  me  where  you  may  be  bold, 

where  none  can  see  or  know  mee  ; 

all  the  world  of  gadding,  running  of  madding, 

none  can  their  stations  hold  : 

One,  he  sitts  drooping  all  in  a  dumpish  passion  ; 

another,  he  is  for  Mirth  and  recreation ; 

the  3?,  he  hangs  his  head  because  hees  out  of  fassion. 

Hollow,  &c. 

See,  See,  See,  what  a  bustling  ! 

Now  I  descry  one  another  lustlynge  ! 

how  they  are  turmoyling,  one  another  foyling, 

&  how  I  past  them  bye  ! 

hee  tJiats  aboue,  him  thais  below  2  despiseth ; 

hee  thats  below,  doth  enuye  him  2  that  ryseth  ; 

euerye  man  his  plot  &  counter  2  plott  deviseth. 

Hollow. 


40 


Shipps,  Shipps,  Shipps,  I  descry  now  ! 

crossing  the  maine  He  goe  too,  and  try  now 

what  they  are  proiecting  &  protecting  ; 

&  when  the  turne  againe. 

One,  hees  to  keepe  his  country  from  inuadinge ; 

another,  he  is  for  Merchandise  &  tradinge  ; 

the  other  Lyes  att  home  like  summers  cattle  shadding.3   trade* 

Hollow. 


I'd  like  to 
look  down 
on  the  bust 
ling  world, 


and  see  one 
man  in  the 
dumps, 
another  all 
mirth ; 


others  jost 
ling  their 
fellows, 


high  de 
spising  low, 
low  envying 
nigh  ; 


shipmen 


projecting 


defence 
from  foes 
or  gain  in 


meteors.— P.  2  MS.  blotted.— F.         8  ?  getting  into  a  shed  or  the  shade.— F. 


32 


HOLLO  WE   ME    FANCYE. 


I  can't  go 
on. 

Fancy,  come 
back  to  me ; 


leave  off 
soaring, 
and  keep  to 
your  book. 


Hollow,  me  fancy,  hollow  ! 

I  pray  thee  come  vnto  mee,  I  can  noe  longer  follow ! 

I  pray  thee  come  &  try  [me]  ;  doe  not  flye  me ! 
44  Sithe  itt  will  noe  better  bee, 

come,  come  away  !  Leave  of  thy  Lofty  soringe  ! 

come  stay  att  home,  &  on  this  booke  be  poring  ! 

for  he  that  gads  abroad,  he  hath  the  lesse  in  storinge. 
48   welcome,  my  fancye  !  welcome  home  to  mee  ! 

ffins, 


33 


THIS  song-  may  very  well  have  been  written,  as  Percy  suggests, 
by  Cleveland  to  cheer  the  garrison  of  Newark ;  when,  during 
the  Eoyalist  occupation  of  it,  he  was  Judge  Advocate.  See 
Introduction  to  "  Egyptian  Queen." 

"  In  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  Newark  was  garrisoned  for  the 
King,  and  held  in  subjection  the  whole  of  this  country,  excepting 
the  town  of  Nottingham ;  and  a  great  part  of  Lincolnshire  was 
laid  under  contribution ;  here  that  unfortunate  sovereign  estab 
lished  a  mint.  .  .  .  During  this  contest  the  town  sustained 
three  sieges  :  in  the  first,  all  Northgate  was  burnt  by  order  of  the 
governor,  Sir  John  Henderson ;  in  the  second,  when  under  the 
government  of  Sir  John,  afterwards  Lord,  Byron,  the  town  was 
relieved  by  the  arrival  from  Chester  of  Prince  Eupert,  who, 
according  to  Clarendon,  in  an  action  between  his  forces  and  the 
parliamentarians  under  Sir  John  Meldrum,  on  Beacon  Hill, 
half  a  mile  eastward  of  the  town,  took  four  thousand  prisoners 
and  thirteen  pieces  of  artillery;  in  the  third  siege,  after  the 
display  of  much  prowess  and  several  vigorous  sallies,  the  fortress 
remained  unimpaired ;  afterwards  Lord  Bellasis,  then  governor, 
surrendered  the  town  to  the  Scottish  army,  by  the  King's  order, 
on  the  8th  of  May,  1646.  At  the  close  of  this  siege,  the  works 
and  circumvallations  were  demolished  by  the  country  people, 
with  the  exception  of  two  considerable  earth-works,  which  are 
now  nearly  perfect,  and  are  called  the  King's  Sconce  and  the 
Queen's  Sconce ;  about  this  time  the  castle  also  was  destroyed." 
(Lewis'  Topogr.  Diet,  of  England.)  ^ 

1  Very  probably  writ  by  Jack  Cleve-  Trent ;  to  Chear  the  Garrison  :  where  he 
land  during  the  siege  of  Newark  upon  was  judge  advocate.— P, 

VOL.  II.  D 


34 


NEWARKE. 


Fill  us  a 
cup! 


Here's  a 
health  to 
King 
Charles. 


We  dread 
not  our  foes. 


If  Leslie  gets 
hold  of  'em 
he'll  play 
the  devil 
and  all. 


12 


16 


UUR :  braines  are  asleepe,  then  fyll  vs  l  a  cupp 

of  cappering  sacke  &  clarett ; 
here  is  a  health  to  JLing  Charles  !  then  drinke  it  all  vp, 

his  cause  will  fare  better  for  itt. 
did  not  an  ould  arke  sane  noye  2  in  a  fflood  ? 

why  may  not  a  new  arke  to  vs  be  vs  3  good  ? 
wee  dread  not  their  forces,  they  are  all  made  of  wood, 

then  wheele  &  turne  about  againe. 

Though  all  beyond  trent  be  sold  to  the  Scott, 

to  men  of  a  new  protestation 
if  Sandye  come  there,  twill  fall  to  their  Lott 

to  haue  a  new  signed  possession  ; 
but  if  once  Lesly  gett  [them]  in  his  power, 

gods  Leard !  heele  play  the  devill  &  all ! 
but  let  him  take  heed  how  hee  comes  there, 

lest  Sweetelipps  ring  him  a  peale  in  his  eare. 


Drink  to  our 
garrison. 


I  fear  no  foe, 


for  our 
Maurice  is 
coming. 


Then  tosse  itt  vp  merrilye,  fill  to  the  brim  ! 

wee  haue  a  new  health  to  remember  ; 
heeres  a  health  to  our  garrisons  !  drinke  it  to  them, 
20         theyle  keepe  vs  all  warme  in  December. 
I  care  not  a  figg  what  enemy  comes ; 

for  wee  doe  account  them  but  hop-of-my-thumbes  ; 
for  Morrise  4  our  prince  is  coming  amaine 
24         to  rowte  &  make  them  run  againe. 

ffins. 


1  MS.  vis  or  vus. — F. 

2  Old  Ark— Noe.— P. 


*  as.— F. 

4  Maurice. — P. 


35 


tfje 


THE  first  collection  of  Carew's  poems  was  made  in  1640,  the 
year  after  his  death.  But  many  of  them  had  been  set  to  music 
during  his  life  ;  others  no  doubt  had  circulated  in  MS. 

"  He  was  a  person,"  says  Clarendon,  "  of  a  pleasant  and 
facetious  wit,  and  made  many  poems  (especially  in  the  amorous 
way),  which  for  the  sharpness  of  the  fancy  and  the  elegance  of 
the  language  in  which  that  fancy  was  spread,  were  at  least  equal, 
if  not  superior  to  any  of  that  time  :  but  his  glory  was  that  after 
fifty  years  of  his  life  spent  with  less  severity  or  exactness  than  it 
ought  to  have  been,  he  died  with  great  remorse  for  that  license, 
and  with  the  greatest  manifestation  of  Christianity,  that  his  best 
friends  could  desire." 


AMongst  the  Mirtles  as  I  walket, 
loue  &  my  thoughts  sights  this  2  inter- talket  : 
"  tell  me,"  said  I  in  deepe  distresse, 
4     "  Where  may  I  find  [my  sheperdesse.3] 

"  Thou  foole  ! "  said  loue,  "  knowes  thou  not  this  ? 
in  euerye  thing  thats  good  shee  is. 
in  yonder  tulepe  goe  &  seeke, 
8     there  thou  may  find  her  lipp,  her  cheeke ; 

"  In  yonder  enameled  Pan  eye, 
there  thou  shalt  haue  her  curyous  eye  ; 
in  bloome  of  peach  &  rosee  4  budd, 
12     there  waue  the  streamers  of  her  blood ; 


Where  can  I 
find  my 
shepherdess? 


[page  196] 

She's  in  all 
that's  good, 
her  hue  in 
the  tulip, 


her  eye  in 
the  pansy, 


1  A  very  elegant  old  song.     Writ  by 
Mr.  Thomas  Carew.     See  his  poems,  89 
L.  1640.— P. 

2  thus. — P. ;  and    sights  marked  for 


omission  by  Percy. — F. 

8  The  MS.  is  cut  away. — F. 
4  rosee.— P. 


36 


AMONGST   THE    MIRTLES. 


her  hand  in 
the  my, 

the  scent  of 
her  bosom 
on  the  hills. 


16 


"  In  l  brightest  Lyllyes  that  lieere  stand, 
the  2  emblem  es  of  her  whiter  hands  ; 
in  yonder  rising  hill,  their  smells  3 
such  sweet  as  in  her  bosome  dwells." 


I  went  to 
pluck  these 
flowers, 

but  all 
vanished. 


"  It  is  trew,"  said  I ;  &  therevpon 
I  went  to  plucke  them  one  by  one 
to  make  of  parts  a  vnyon  ; 
20     butt  on  a  sudden  all  was  erone. 


So  shall  pass 
my  joy  1 


W^'th  that  I  stopt,  sayd,  "  loue,4  these  bee, 
fond  man,  resemblance-is  of  thee  5  ; 
&  as  these  flowers,  thy  loyes  shall  dye 
24     Euen  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 

"  And  all  thy  hopes  of  her  shall  wither 
Like  these  short  sweetes  soe  knitt  together." 


ffi[ns.] 


1  The.— P. 

2  are.— P. 

3  there  smells. — P. 


4  stop'd.     S<?  Love  &c.— P. 

5  resemblances  of  thee. — P. 


37 


Cfje  toorl&e  fe  rftangrtu1 

SONGS  of  a  very  similar  kind  are  common  enough  in  the  collec 
tions  of  Royalist  poems  :  as,  for  instance,  "The  Humble  Petition 
of  the  House  of  Commons  "  in  A  Collection  of  Loyal  Songs 
written  against  the  Rump  Parliament  between  the  years  1639 
and  1661,  1731. 

If  Charles  them  wilt  but  be  so  kind 
To  give  us  leave  to  take  our  mind, 

Of  all  thy  store  ; 

When  we  thy  Loyal  Subjects,  find 
Th'ast  nothing  left  to  give  behind 

We'll  ask  no  more. 

and  "  Pym's  Anarchy  "  in  the  same  collection  : 

Ask  me  no  more,  why  there  appears 
Daily  such  troops  of  Dragooners  ? 
Since  it  is  requisite,  you  know, 
They  rob  cum  privilcgio. 

Ask  me  no  more,  why  from  Blackwall 
Great  Tumults  come  into  Whitehall  ? 
Since  it's  allow'd,  by  free  consent, 
The  Privilege  of  Parliament. 

Ask  me  no  more,  for  I  grow  dull, 

Why  Hotham  kept  the  Town  of  Hull  ? 

This  answer  I  in  brief  do  sing, 

All  things  were  thus  when  Pym  was  King. 


1HE  :  world  is  changed,  &  wee  haue  choyces,         Not  Reason, 

but  most 

not  by  most  reason,  but  most  voyces  ;  voices  rule. 

the  Lyon  is  trampled  by  the  Mouse, 
4      the  lower  is  the  vpper  house,  The  lower 

&  house  is  the 

thus  from,  laus  2  orders  come,  upper. 

but  now  their  orders  laus  2  frome. 
1  A  good  old  Cavilier  song. — P.  2  qu.  Caus.— F. 


38 


THE   WOKLDE    IS   CHANGED. 


They  want 
to  enslave 
their  king, 


and  put  him 
under  Pym. 


Charles 
would  rather 
not. 


No  petitions 
are  to  be 
presented 
but  their 


In  all  humilitye  they  craue 
8      theire  soueraigne  to  be  their  slaue, 
beseeching  him  thai  hee  wold  bee 
betrayd  to  them  most  Loyallye  ; 
for  it  were  Meeknesse  soe  in  him 
12      to  be  a  vice-Roy  vntoy  Pyim.1 

If  thai  hee  wold  but  once  Lay  downe 
his  scepter,  maiestye,  &  crowne, 
hee  shalbe  made  in  time  to  come 
16      the  greatest  prince  in  christendome. 
Charles,  att  this  time  hairing  noe  neede, 
thankes  them  as  much  as  if  they  did. 

Petitions  none  must  be  presented 
20      but  what  are  by  themselves  inuented, 

that  once  a  month  the  thinke  it  Sitting 

to  fast  from  soine  2  because  from  sittinge  ; 

Such  blessings  to  the  Land  are  sent 
24      by  priuiledge  of  Parlaiment. 

ffins. 


unto  Pym.— P.          2  ?  MS.  some,  with  a  dot  over  the  first  stroke  of  the  n.—  F. 


€l)t  tribe  off 

THIS  song,  not  before  printed  so  far  as  we  know,  gives  an 
insolent  Cavalier  account,  put  in  the  mouth  of  a  Puritan,  of  the 
occupation  of  Banbury  by  a  Eoyalist  force.  Eanbury  was  visited 
more  than  once  by  such  a  force  during  the  Civil  War  of  1642-6. 
The  visit  here  referred  to  was  paid  in  the  very  beginning  of  the 
disturbance^,  some  seventeen  days  before  the  Eoyal  Standard  was 
set  up  at  Nottingham.  When  the  King  and  the  Parliament 
each  insisted  on  having  the  management  of  the  militia,  the 
former  appointed  the  Earl  of  Northampton  to  "  array  "  it  in 
Warwickshire,  the  latter  Lord  Brook.  In  July  the  Parliament 
granted  its  deputy  six  pieces  of  ordnance  to  strengthen  his  castle, 
at  Warwick.  These  were  conveyed  as  far  as  Banbury  by  the 
29th.  The  attempt  to  convey  them  on  to  Warwick  was  barred 
by  Lord  Northampton.  The  two  lords  at  last  agreed  that  they 
should  be  carried  back  to  Banbury,  and  that  neither  party  should 
remove  them  without  giving  the  other  three  days'  notice.  On 
the  6th  and  7th  of  August  great  alarm  began  to  prevail  in  the 
town,  that  the  enemy  was  meditating  an  assault,  and  a  seizure  of 
the  said  ordnance.  On  Sunday  night,  the  7th,  the  enemy  was 
discovered  by  a  scout,  coming  down  Hardwick  lane  in  great  force* 
But  "the  night  growing  extreme  dark,  they  forbare  all  that 
night."  Then  next  morning  a  parley  was  held,  when  the 
Cavaliers  by  turns  cajoled  and  threatened  the  fearful  citizens. 
At  last  :— 

The  town  being  in  a  sad  case,  not  knowing  how  they  would  deal 
with  them,  exposed  themselves  and  town  on  Munday  morning  [the 
8th],  and  in  a  while  after  they  came  in  with  about  5  or  600  horses, 


An  old  Caviller  Song  on  the  Taking  of  Banbury  by  Colonel  Lumford. — P. 


40  THE    TRIBE    OF    BANBTJRYE. 

• 

but  300  good  ones,  and  the  rest  sorry  jades,  anything  [they]  could 
get  from  the  poor  countrey  men,  some  at  work  ;  and  as  beggarly 
riders  set  on  them,  though  for  the  present  they  flourished  with  money, 
yet  their  cloths  bewrayed  them  to  be  neither  gentlemen  nor  Cavaliers. 
And  having  fil'd  the  town  with  horses  the  chief  of  them  came  to 
the  Red  Lion  Inne,  and  desired  to  speak  with  Colonell  Feines  and 
Captaine  Vivers,  who  were  in  the  Castle,  to  whom  reply  was  made, 
they  should,  if  they  would  send  two  as  considerable  men  in  lieu, 
which  they  did  ;  then  they  produced  the  Commission  of  Array,  and 
required  them  to  deliver  the  Ordnance,  otherwise  they  would  take 
them  by  force,  and  fire  the  town.  And  having  obtained  that  they 
came  for,  the  ordnance  and  ammunition  thereunto  belonging,  they 
clear'd  the  town  againe,  and  were  all  departed  before-  night,  who 
carried  them  to  the  E.  of  Nbrthamptons  house  [Compton  Wyngate], 
and  it  was  thought  they  intended  to  goe  to  Warwicke  castle  the  next 
day,  but  the  Lord  Brooke  had  noe  notice  from  the  Earle  of  three 
dayes  warning,  as  was  agreed  between  them  ;  There  was  also  Colonell 
Lunsford,  and  divers  Lords  too  long  to  name  ;  There  was  the  Lord 
Wilmot,  who  kept  backe  the  town  of  Atherbury  from  coming  in  to 
aide  Banbury,  and  threatned  he  would  hang  np  the  men  and  send  the 
souldiers  to  their  wives  and  children  ;  There  was  also  the  Lord 
Dunsmore.  —  "Proceedings  at  Banbvry  since  the  Ordnance  went  down 
for  the  Lord  Brooke  to  fortifie  Warwick  Castle,"  4to,  1642.  Among 
the  King's  Pamphlets  in  the  Brit.  Mus.  apud  Beesleifs  "  History 
of  Banbury,"  p.  302. 


On  July  7  UN  :  the  7th  day  on  the  7  month, 

most  Lamentablye 
^e  men  °^  Babylon  did  spoyle 
4        tae  tribe  of  Banburye. 


A  brother  post  from  cou  entry 

ryding  in  a  blew  rockett,1 
sayes,  "  Colbronde  Lunsford  comes,  I  saw, 
8        with  a  childs  arme  hang  in  his  pockett." 

1  A.-S.  roc,  clothing,  an  outer  garment,  Fulle  wel  [y-]  clothed  was  Fraunchise, 

a  coat,  jacket,  vest  :   Bosworth,  Germ.  For  ther  is  no  cloth  sittith  bet 

rock,  a  coat.     Chaucer  describes  dame  On  damyselle,  than  doth  rocket. 

Fraunchise   in   a  rocket,   see  Fairholt's  A  womman  wel  more  fetys  is 
Glossary  : 


THE    TRIBE    OF    BANBURYE. 


41 


[-2 


Then  wee  called  up  our  men  of  warr, 
younge  Viuers,  Cooke  &  Denys,1 

whome  our  Lord  Sea  2  placed  vnder 
his  Sonne  Master  ffyenys.3 


and  called 
out  our  men 
of  war, 


When  hee  came  neere,  he  sent  vs  word 

that  hee  was  coming  downe, 
&  wold,  vnles  wee  lett  him  in, 
1 6          Granado  4  all  our  towne. 


butLunsford 

said  he'd 


grenado  our 
town, 


Then  was  our  Coilbronde — fines,5 — &  me, 

in  a  most  woefull  case  ; 
for  neither  he  nor  I  did  know 
20          who  this  granado  was. 


wee  had  8  gunnes  called  ordinance,6 

&  foure  score  Musquetiers,7 
yett  all  this  wold  not  serue  to  stop 
24          those  Philistime  cauileeres. 


and  our  gum 

and  men 


[page  1 97]    couldn't  stop 
him. 


Good  people,  the  did  send  in  men 

from  Dorchester  &  Wickam  ; 
but  wher  this  Gyant  did  them  see, 
28          good  Lord,  how  he  did  kick  han  8  ! 


In  rokct  than  in  cote,  ywis. 

The  whyte  rokct  rydled  faire,  &c. 

Romaunt  of  the  Rose,  1. 1238-43,  Poet. 
Works,  ed.  Morris,  vi.  38. 

"  Kocket,  a  surplys  : "  Palsgrave. 

"Skeltcn  describes  Elinor  Humming 
the  Alewife  in  a  gray  russet  rocket. 

Rocket,  a  cloak  without  a  cope :  Eandle 
Holme ;  "  in  Fairholt. 

Rocket,  a  frocke ;  loose  gaberdine,  or 
gowne  of  canuas  or  course  linnen,  worne 
by  a  labourer  over  the  rest  of  his  clothes ; 
also,  a  Prelates  Kocket :  Cotgrave.  See 
the  woodcut  in  Fairholt,  p.  220. — F. 

1  There  is  a  dot  over  the  stroke  follow 


ing  the  e  in  the  MS.— F. 

2  Say.-P. 

3  Fiennes. — P. 

4  Fr.  Grenade.     A  Pomegranet ;  also, 
a  ball  of  wild-fire,  made  like  a  Pome 
granet:   Cotgrave.     An  iron  case  filled 
with  powder  and  bits  of  iron,  like  the 
seeds  in    a    pomegranate:    Wedgwood. 

5  Fiennes. — P. 

6  Ordinance,  all  sorts  of  Artillery,  or 
great  Guns  us'd  in  War.     Phillips. — F. 

7  Musquetiers. — P.    The  last  e  is  made 
over  a  y  in  the  MS. — F. 

8  kick  'em. — P. 


42 


THE    TRIBE    OF   BANBURYE. 


He  swore 
and  threat 
ened  us  so 


32 


"  You  round  heads,  rebells,*  rougs,1  "  q^oth  hee, 

"  He  crop  &  slitt  eche  eare, 
&  leaue  you  neither  arme  nor  lege 

much  longer  then  you?  heere  2  !  " 


that  we 
opened  our 
gates, 


Then  wee  sett  ope  our  gates  3  full  wyde  ; 

they  swarmed  in  like  bees, 
&  they  were  all  arraydd  in  buffe 
36          thicker  then  our  towne  cheese.4 


and  hia 
blood 
thirsty  men 


Now  god  deliuer  vs,  we  pray, 

from  such  blood-thirstye  men, 
forom  5  Leuyathan  Lunsford 
40          who  eateth  our  children  ! 


hung  us  and 
plundered 


44 


ffor  Banburye,  the  tinkers  crye, 
you  hanged  vs  vp  by  twelues ; 

now  since  Lunsford  hath  plundred  you, 
you  may  goe  hang  J.OUT  selues. 

ffins. 


1  rogues. — P. 

2  haire.     N.B.  The  Roundheads  were 
so  called  from  wearing  their  hair  cropt 
short.— P. 


3  gater  in  the  MS.— F. 

4  Banbury  Cheese.— P. 

5  this.— P. 


\_"Doe  you  meane  to  overthrowe  me"  and  "A  Maid  fy  a  Younge  Man" 
printed  in  Lo.  and  Hum.  Songs,  p.  49-52,  follow  here  in 
the  MS.~] 


43 


3p  :  me  :  $p  me  : 

THE  Editors  have  not  found  any  printed  copy  of  this  song. 
Mr.  Chappell  informs  them  that  there  is  a  tune  in  the  Dancing 
Master  of  1657  entitled  "Ay  me,  or  the  Symphony,"  but  it 
requires  words  of  a  different  metre  to  that  of  this  song. 

"  A  fling  at  the  Scots,  probably  writ  in  James  I.  time "  is 
Percy's  MS.  note ;  or,  as  Mr.  Halliwell  says  of  Joky  ivill  prove 
a  gentillman,1  a  "  satire  .  .  doubtlessly  levelled  against  the 
numerous  train  of  Scotch  adventurers  who  wisely  emigrated  to 
England  in  the  time  of  James  I.,  in  the  full  expectation  of 
being  distinguished  by  the  particular  favour  and  patronage  of 
their  native  sovereign."  Poor  Sisly,  the  chief  speaker  in  the 
piece,  laments  the  dropping  off  of  her  suitors.  She  once  had 
twelve,  and  now  she  has  but  one.  The  first  was  handsome  ;  the 
ten  following  were  all  well-to-do  in  the  world  in  one  way  or 
another ;  the  one  that  yet  remains  has  no  merit  of  either  sort. 
The  others  were  Welsh,  Dutch,  French,  or  Spanish ;  this  one  is 
a  sorry  Scotchman.  A  doleful  state  of  things  ;  but  the  best  must 
be  made  of  it.  At  any  rate,  as  this  last  lingering  wooer  is  a 
beggar,  he  can  never  be  declared  bankrupt.  But  indeed  begging 
is  the  way  to  wealth  now-a-days — begging  for  appointments,  &c. 
In  Joky  will  prove  such  begging  is  introduced  as  the  cause  of 
the  marvellous  change  of  the  hero's  cowhide  shoes  into  Spanish- 
leather  ones  decked  with  roses,  of  his  twelvepenny  stockings 
into  "  silken  blewe,"  of  his  list  garters  into  silk  tasselled  with 
gold  and  silver,  &c. 

1  Keprinted  from  The  Archceologist  in  Satirical  Songs  (Percy  Society),  p.  127. 


44 


AY   ME:    AY   ME. 


Thy  hose  and  thy  dublett,  which  were  full  plaine, 
Whereof  great  store  of  lice  [did]  containe, 
Is  turned  nowe.     Well  fare  thy  braine 
That  can  by  begginge  this  maintayne! 

By  my  fay,  and  by  Saint  Ann, 

Joky  will  prove  a  gentilman  ! 

Moved  by  this  disinterested  consideration — that  begging  is  the 
winning  game — Sisly  resolves  to  give  the  constant  Scot  the  right 
to  beg  for  her  as  well  as  himself. 


Oh  dear ! 
I  had  twelve 
suitors, 


and  all  are 

gone  but 

one, 

the  worst  of 

all, 


a  regular 
weed. 


12 


1G 


The  rest 
were  good, 


20 


this  one's 
naught, 


"  AY :  me,  ay  me,  pore  sisley,  &  vndone  !  ! 

I  had  12  sutors,  now  I  have  but  one ! 

they  all  were  wealthy ;  had  I  beene  but  wise  ; 

now  haue  all  left  me  since  I  haue  beene  soe  nice,2 

but  only  one,  and  him  all  Maidens  scorne, 

for  hees  the  worst  I  thinke  thai  ere  was  borne." 

"  peace  good  sisley !  peace  &  say  noe  more  ! 

bad  mends  in  time ;  good  salue  heales  many  a  sore." 

"  ffaith  such  a  one  as  I  cold  none  but  loue,3 
for  4  few  or  none  of  them  doe  constant  proue  ; 
a  man  in  shape,  proportion,  looke,  and  showe, 
much  like  a  Mushroome  in  one  night  doth  grow ; 
proud  as  a  lay  thats  of  a  comely  hew, 
cladd  like  a  Musele  in  a  capp  of  blew.5  " 
"  peace,  good  sisley  !  peace,  &  say  noe  more  ! 
be  Merry,  wench,  &  lett  the  welkin  rore  !" 

"  The  first  I  had  was  framed  in  bewtyes  mold, 

the  second :  3*!  and  4*  had  store  of  gold, 

the  5.  6.  7.  8*  had  trades  eche  one, 

the  best  had  goods  &  lands  to  Hue  vpon ; 

Now  may  I  weepe,  sigh,  sobb,  &  ring  my  hands, 

since  this  hath  neither  witt,  trade,vgoods,  nor  Land[s.]  " 


1  I'm  vndone. — P. 

2  Particular ;  not  Fr.  niais,  a  simple, 
witlesse,  vn experienced  gull.     Nice,  dull, 
simple :  Cotgrave. — F. 


8  As  none  but  I  could  love. — P. 
4  But.— P. 

6  The  Scotch  cap.     See  Slew-cap  for 
me  in  Sat.  Songs,  p.  130,  &c. — F. 


AY    ME  :    AY    ME. 


45 


"  peace,  good  sisley  ;  peace  &  take  that  one 
that  stayes  behind  when  all  the  rest  are  gone  !  " 


"  He  [is,]  as  J  turkes  doe  say,  noe  renegatoe,2 
noe  Portugall,  Gallowne,  or  reformato  3  ; 
but  in  playne  termes  some  say  he  is  a  scott, 

28      that  by  his  witts  some  old  cast  suite  hath  gott, 
&  now  is  as  4  briske  5  as  my  6  Bristow  Taylor, 
&  swaggers  like  a  pander  or  a  saylor.7  " 
"  kisse  him,  sisley,  kisse  him,  he  may  proue  the  best, 

32      &  vse  him  kindly,  but  Avitt  bee  all  the  rest." 

"  One  was  a  welchman,  her  wold8  scorne  to  crye ; 
&  3  were  Dutchmen  that  sill  9  drunke  wold  bee  ; 
&  6  were  frenchemen  that  were  pockye  proudc  ; 

36      &  one  a  spanyard  that  cold  bragg  alowd. 
Now  all  are  gone,  &  way  10  not  me  a  figge, 
but  one  poore  Scott  who  can  doe  nought  but  begg." 
"  take  him,  sisley  !  take  him,  for  itt  is  noe  doubt, 

40      his  trades  that  beggs,  heele  neuer  proofe 1 1  banquerout.' ' 

"  Nay,  sure,  He  haue  him,  for  all  people  say 
that  men  by  begging  grow  rich  now  a  day, 
&  that  oftentimes  is  gotten  with  a  word 

44      att  great  mens  hands  that  neuer  was  woone  by  sword, 
then  welcome  Scotchman,  wee  will  weded  bee, 
&  one  day  thou  shalt  begg  for  thee  and  mee." 
"  well  sayd,  sisley !  well  said  !  on  another  day, 

48      by  begging  thou  maist  weare  a  garland  gay  !  " 


a  Scot, 

in  a  cast-off 

suite. 


My  other 
suitors  were 
Welch, 
Dutch,  &.C. 


This  one  is  a 
poor  begging 
Scot. 


But  I'll  take 
him  ; 

begging's  a 
good  trade 
now  ; 


and  he'll  beg 
for  us  both. 


1  He  is,  as,  &c.— P. 

2  renegade. — P. 

3  reformado. — P.     Sp.  reformado,  re 
formed.  Minsheu.  Beformado,  ^Reformed 
Officer,  an    Officer  whose    Company  or 
Troop  is  disbanded,  and  yet  be  continu'd 
in  whole  or  half  Pay ;  still  being  in  the 
way   of    Preferment,   and    keeping   his 
Eight  of  Seniority :  Also  a  Gentleman 
who  serves  as  a  Volunteer  in  a  Man  of 
War,  in  Order  to  learn  Experience,  and 


succeed  the  Iriucipal  Officers.    Phillips. 
— F. 

It  may  be  al  in  the  MS.— F. 

And  now's  as  brisk. — P. 

any. — P. 

?  MS.  Jaylor.—F. 

hur  wold,  &c. — P. 

still.— P. 

weigh. — P. 

The  Man  that  begs  will  ne'er  prove. 


46 


ffafnt  :  tooftre  :  5 


[page  199] 


THIS  is  the  song  of  one  who  entertains  a  supreme  horror  of 
living  and  dying  an  old  maid.  She  has  been  told  by  old  wives, 
no  doubt  well  informed  on  the  subject,,  that  those  who  do  so  are 
employed  subsequently  in  "  leading  apes  in  hell ; "  l  after  which 
singular  occupation  she  feels  no  great  hankering.  "To  the 
church,"  then,  is  the  word.  Ding-dong  away,  Marriage  bells. 


I  want  to 
change  my 
maiden  life, 


for  I'm 

nearly  six 
teen, 


12 


.T  AINE  wold  I  change  my  maiden  liffe 
to  tast  of  loues  true  loyes." 
"What  ?  liffe  !  woldest2  thou  chuse  to  bee  a  wiffe  ? 

maids  wishes  are  but  toyes." 
"  how  can  there  bee  a  greater  hell  then  liue  a  maid 

soe  lo^g,3 
a  mayd  soe  long  ? 

to  the  church  ring  out  the  Marriage  bells, 
ding  dong,  ding  dong,  ding  dong  !" 

"  Beffore  that  15  yeeres  were  spent, 

I  knew,  &  haue  a  sonne." 
"  how  old  art  thou  ?  "  "  sixteene  next  Lent." 

"  alas,  wee  are  both  vndone  !  " 
how  can  there  bee  &c. 


1  Mr.  Dyce  says :  "  The  only  instances 
of  the  expression  leading  apes  in  (or  into) 
hell,  which  at  present  occur  to  me,  are 
these : — 

"  '  —  and  he  that  is  less  than  a  man, 
I  am  not  for  him :  therefore  I  will  even 
take  sixpence  in  earnest  of  the  bear- 
ward,  and  lead  his  apes  into  hell.' — 
Shakespeare's  Much  ado  about  Nothing, 
act  n.  sc.  1. 

"  '  —  but  keeping  my  maidenhead  till 
it  was  stale,  I  am  condemned  to  lead  apes 
in  hell.' — Shirley's  Love-Tricks,  act  iii. 


sc.  5 ;  Works,  vol.  i.  p.  53,  ed.  Gifford 
and  Dyce. 

"  This  phrase,  which  is  still  in  common 
use,  never  has  been  (and  never  will  be) 
satisfactorily  explained.  Steevens  sug 
gests,  '  That  women  who  refused  to  bear 
children,  should,  after  death,  be  con 
demned  to  the  care  of  apes  in  leading- 
strings,  might  have  been  considered  as 
an  act  of  posthumous  retribution.'  " — F. 

2  why  would' st. — P. 

8  ?  MS.— F.     so  long.-P. 


FAINE    WOLDE    I    CHANGE.  47 

"Besides,  I  heard  an  old  wiffe  tell 

that  all  true  maids  must  dye."  and  true 

16     "  what  must  they  doe  ?  "  "  lead  apes  in  hell !  and  lead  apes 

*  in  hell. 

a  dolefull  destinye." 

"  &  wee  will  lead  noe  apes  in  hell ;  Jh™n't do 

1  weele  change  our  maiden  song,  our  maiden  song  ; 
20     to  the  church  ring  out  the  Marriage  bells,  t^churchf 

wee  haue  liued  true  mayds  to  2  longe." 

ffins. 

"Weele  change"  is  in  the  18th  line  in  the  MS.— F.  2  too.—  P. 


48 


ffirst  5 

THIS  song  occurs,  as  Mr.  Chappell  remarks,  in  the  Golden 
Garland  of  Princely  Delight,  3rd  edition,  1620.  Mr.  Chappell 
adds  a  fourth  stanza  from  later  copies,  "  such  as  Wit9 8  Interpreter, 
third  edition,  8vo.  1671  :" 

If  I  hare  wronged  you,  tell  me  wherein, 

And  I  will  soon  amend  it ; 
In  recompense  of  such  a  sin, 

Here  is  my  heart,  I'll  send  it. 
If  that  will  not  your  mercy  move, 

Then  for  my  life  I  care  not ; 
Then,  0  then,  torment  me  still, 

And  take  my  life  and  spare  not. 

He  gives  the  tune  to  which  the  song  was  sung,  composed  by 
Thomas  Ford  (one  of  the  musicians  in  the  suite  of  Prince  Henry, 
the  eldest  son  of  James  I.),  who  published  it  in  his  Musick  of 
Sundrie  Kindes,  in  1607. 


WHEN  ffirst  I  saw  her  face,  I  resolued  ' 

to  honor  &  renowne  thee  ; 
but  if  I  be  disdayned,  I  wishe 
4         thai  I  had  neuer  knowne  thee. 

mdiove?ade  J  asked  leaue  5  J™  bade  me  lone  ; 

is  itt  now  time  to  chyde  mee  ? 

O  :  no  :  no  :  no  !  I  lone  you  still,  what  fortune  euer 
betyde  mee  ! 

8     If  I  admire  or  praise  you  too  much, 

that  fortune  [you]  might  2  forgiue  mee  ; 
or  that  my  hand  hath  straid  but  to  touch,3 
thenn  might  you  iustly  leaue  mee, 

1  thee  I  resolv'd.— P.     2  that  fault  you  might.— P.     3  MS.  teach.— F.    to  touch.— P. 


WHEN    FIRST    I    SAWE. 


49 


12     but  I  that  liked,  &  you  thai  loued, 

is  now  a  time  to  wrangle  ? 

O    no :   no :    no,  my  hart  is  ffixt,  &  will  not  new  wm  you 
entangle. 


The  sun,  whose  beanies  most  glorious  are, 
1 6         rejecteth  l  noe  beholder  ; 

youY  faire  face,  past  all  compare, 

makes  my  faint  hart  the  bolder, 
when  bewtye  likes,  &  witt  delights, 
20         &  showes  of  Loue  doe  bind  mee  ; 

there,  there  !  0  there  !  whersoeuer  I  goe, 
He  leaue  my  hart  behind  mee  ! 


MS.  &  reacheth.— F. 


ffins. 


now  quarrel 
with  me  ? 


Your  beauty 


has  stolen 
my  heart. 


["  A    Creature  for    Feature,"     and    "Lye    alone,"    printed    in 
Lo.  and  Hum.  Songs,  p.  53— 56,  follow  here  in  the  MS.~\ 


VOL.  II. 


50 


fagre  $\)tt  be*1 

THIS  well-known  song  by  Greorge  Wither  (1590-1667)  appeared 
in  1619,  appended  to  his  Fidelia,  and  again  in  Juvenilia,  in  1633, 
in  "  Fair  Virtue  the  Mistress  of  Philarete."  It  was  reprinted 
again  and  again,  sometimes  with  another  stanza.  The  version 
here  given  is  slightly  corrupt.  J<  A  copy  of  this  song,"  says  Mr. 
Chappell,  "is  in  the  Pepys  collection,  i.  230,  entitled  A  new  song 
of  a  young  man's  opinion  of  the  difference  between  good  and 
bad  women.  To  a  pleasant  new  tune.  It  is  also  in  the  second 
part  of  the  Grolden  Garland  of  Princely  Delights,  third  edition 
1620,  entitled  The  Shepherd's  Eesolution.  To  the  tune  of  The 
Young  Man's  Opinion." 


Shall  I  kill 
myself 


because  my 
love  doesn't 
care  for  me  ? 


Not  I. 


uHALL :  I,  wasting  in  dispayre, 

dye  because  a  womans  fayre  ? 
or  make  pale  my  cheekes  w^th  care  2 

because  anothers  rose-yee  3  are  ? 
Be  shee  fairer  then  the  day 

or  the  flowry  Meads  in  may, 
if  shee  thinke  not  well  of  mee, 

What  care  I  how  fayre  shee  bee  ? 


Shall  my  foolish  hart  be  pind 

because  I  see  a  woman  kind, 
or  a  well  disposed  nature 
12         w^th  4  a  comlye  feature  ? 


1  An  elegant  old  Song  by  Withers. 
This  song  is  in  the  Tea  Table  Miscellany 
of  Allan  Bamsay,  1753,  ?age  304.  But 
the  Printed  Copy  wants  the  2?  stanza : — 
it  containing  only  three.  It  is  also  in 
Dryden's  Misc.  V.  6.  p.  335,  with  the 


omission  of  St.  2?  —P. 

2  shall  my  Cheeks  look  pale  with  care 
(printed  Copy). — P. 

8  rosie  are. — P. 

4  matched  or  joined. — P. 


HOW    FAYRE   SHEE   BE. 


51 


16 


Be  shee  Meeker,  kinder,  then 
the  turtledoue  or  Pelican, 

if  shee  be  not  soe  to  me, 

what  care  I  how  kind  shee  bee  ? 


If  she's  not 
kind  to  me, 
let  her  go. 


Shall  a  womans  vertues  l  moue 

me  to  perish  for  her  lone, 
or  her  worthy  merritts  knowne 
20         make  me  quite  forgett  mine  owne  ? 
were  shee  w*th  that  goodness  blest, 

as  may  meritt  name  of  best, 
if  shee  be  not  soe  to  me, 
24         what  care  I  how  good  shee  bee  ? 


Shall  I 
perish  for 
her  love  ? 


Not  I. 


2  Be  shee  good  or  kind  or  fayre, 
I  will  neuer  more  disp[air  ;] 
if  shee  loue  me,  this  beleeue, 
28         I  will  dye  ere  shee  shall  g[reiue ;] 
if  shee  slight  me  when  I  woe, 
I  will  scorne  &  lett  her  goe. 
or  if  shee  be  not  3  for  mee, 
32         what  care  1 4  for  whom  shee  bee  ? 


If  she  slight 

me, 

let  her  go. 


What  care  I? 


1  goodness  (printed  Copy). — P. 

2  The  following  four  lines  are  written 
in  two  in  the  MS. — F. 


3  Percy  inserts  fit. — F. 

4  A  whom  struck  out  follows  /  in  the 
MS.— F. 


["  Downe   sate    the    Shepard,"    and    "Men    that    more"   printed    in 
Lo.  and  Hum.  Songs,  p.  57-60,  follow  here  in  the  MS.~\ 


Come  :  Come  :  Come  :' 

THIS  is,  says  Percy  in  his  marginal  note  in  the  Folio,  "  A  curious 
old  drinking  song,  supposed  to  be  sung  by  an  old  gouty  Baccha 
nal."  Not  content  with  fellow  mortal  topers,  the  old-  roisterer 
calls  on  all  the  Gods  to  join  him  in  his  carouse.  Not  his  the 
Lotus-eater's  conception  of  the  Deities.  He  does  not  think 
that  (e  careless  of  mankind  they  lie  beside  their  nectar  .  .  where 
they  smile  in  secret,  looking  over  wasted  lands,"  smile  at  the 
music  centred  in  the  doleful  song  of  lamentation,  the  ancient 
tale  of  wrong,  from  the  "  ill-used  race  of  men  that  cleave  the  soil." 
He  sees  them  madding  their  brains  for  "a  little  care  of  the 
world's  affair,"  u  utterly  consumed  with  sharp  distress  "  at  the 
world's  misery  ;  and  he  calls  on  them  to  be  such  fools  no  longer — 
to  "  let  mortals  do  as  well  as  they  may  " — while  they,  the  Gods, 
take  up  their  wine  and  drink  with  him.  Mars,  Momus,  Mercury, 
Apollo,  Vulcan,  the  great  Jove  himself,  dread  Juno,  and  Venus, 
Goddess  of  Love — none  are  excused — all  must  join;  the  grape 
is  sweet,  and  wine  for  them  as  well  as  men :  let  all  quaff,  and 
sing  fa  la  la  ! — F. 

Let's  be  joiiy!  vOME:   Come,  come  !  shall  wee  Masque  or  mum? 

by  my  holly  day,2  what  a  coyle  is  heere  ! 
some  must  3  sway,  &  some  obay  I, 
4         or  else,  I  pray,  who  stands  in  fearc  ? 
Though  though  4  my  toe,  thai  I  limpe  on  soe,5 

we  have  0          11 

the  gout,  doe  cause  my  woe  &  wellaway, 

wine'n  make  yett  this  sweet  spring  &  another  thing 

8         will  make  you  sing  fa.la.la.la.la. 

1  A  curious  old  drinking   song,  sup-  s  mist  in  the  MS. — F. 

posed  to  be  sung  by  an  old  gouty  Bac-  4  what  tho'. — P. 

chanal. — P.  5  sc.  with  the  Gout. — P. 

a  Dame.— P. 


COME  :  COME  :  COME. 


53 


ffellow  gods,  will  you  fall  att  odds  ? 

what  a  fury  madds  yo^r  morttall  l  braines  ! 
for  a  litle  care  of  the  worlds  affare, 
12         will  you  frett,  will  you  square,2  will  you  vexe,  will 

you  vai[r  ?]  3 
No,  gods  !  no  !  let  fury  go,4 

&  Morttalls  doe  as  well  as  they  may  ! 
for  this  sweet  &c. 


Don't  bothe  r 

about 

business. 


16     God  of  Moes,5  with  thy  toting  Nose, 

with  thy  mouth  that  growes  to  thy  Lolling  eare, 
stretch  thy  mouth  from  North  to  south, 

J 

&  quench  thy  drought6  in  viiiigar  ! 
20     though  thy  toung  be  too  Large  &  too  Longe 

to  sing  this  song  of  fa  la  la  la  la, 
loyne  Momus  grace  to  vulcans  pace, 

&  with  a  filthy  face  crye  "  waw  waw  waw  !  " 


Momus, 


drink 

vinegar  ! 


sing  With  ug 


24    Brother  Mine,  thou  7  art  god  of  wine  ! 

will  you  tast  of  the  wine  8  to  the  companye  ? 
ItLing  of  quaffe,  carrouse  &  doffe 

you?  Liquor  of,  and  follow  mee  ! 
28     9  Sweete  soyle  of  Exus  lie, 

wherin  this  coyse  10  was  euery  day, 
for  this  sweet  &c. 


Bacchus, 


join  me  in  a 


Mercurye,  thou  Olimpian  spye  ! 

32         wilt  thou  wash  thine  eye  in  this  fontaine  cleere  ? 
when  1  1  you  goe  to  the  world  below, 

you  shall  light  of  noe  such  Liquor  there, 


Mercury, 
drink  i 


1  immortal,  qu.  —  P. 

2  i.  e.  quarrel.—  P. 

3  will  you  vex  yot/r  vaines.  —  P.     Vair 
for  veer,  turn.     It  should   rhyme  with 
square.—  Chappell. 

4  ?  MS.  gott,  with  1  1  blotched  out.—  F. 

5  Mows,  i.  e.  Mockery.  Sc.  Momus.  —  P. 


6  drowth.  —  P. 

7  that.  —  P. 

8  vine.  —  P. 

9  To  the.  —  P. 

10  ?  MS.  coyle.  —  F. 
Halliwell. 
"  whene'er.—  P. 


?  coyse,  body.  — 


54 


COME  :  COME  I  COME. 


Wine'll  wing 
your  heart. 


Mars, 


stop  strife, 
and  drink. 


though l  you  were  a  winged  stare 
36         &  flyeth  2  fair  as  shineth  day  ; 

yett  heeres  a  thing  yowr  hart  will  wing, 
&  make  you  sing  &c. 

You  thai  are  the  god  of  warr, 
40         a  cruell  starr  peruerse  &  froward, 

Mars  !  prepare  thy  warlicke  speare, 
&  targett !  heers  a  combatt  towards  ! 

3  then  fox  4  me,  &  He  fox  thee ; 
44         then  lets  agree,  &  end  this  fray, 

since  this  sweet  &c. 


Venus, 


you  drink 
too! 


Venus  queene,  for  bewtye  scene, 

in  youth  soe  greene,  &  loued  soe  young, 
48     thou  that  art  mine  owne  sweet  hart, 

shalt  haue  a  part  in  Cuppe  [&]  songe  5 ; 
though  my  foot  be  wrong,  my  swords  fall  long 

&  hart  full  strong ;  cast  care  away, 
52     Since  this  sweet  &c. 


Apollo, 


here's  wine 
for  you  I 
It  will  refine 
your  music. 


Great  Appollo,  crowned  with  yellow/ 
Cynthius,  fellow  7-muses  deere  ! 

heere  is  wine,  itt  must  be  thine, 
56         itt  will  refine  thy  Musicke  cleere  ; 

to  the  wire  of  this  sweet  lire 
you  must  aspire  another  day, 

for  this  sweet  &c. 


Juno,  GO     luno  clere,  &  mother  dere, 

you  come  in  the  rere  of  a  bowsing  feast ; 


1  Altho',  or  even  tho',  or  perhaps 

What  tho'  you  are  a  winged  star 
And  fly  as  far. — P. 

2  and  flew  as,  as,  That  flyeth.— P. 
8  Do  thou  fox  me. — P. 

4  a  toping  Word. — P.     Fox,  to  make 
tipsy.   A  cant  term.   See  Hobson's  Jests, 


1607,  repr.  p.  33.     Halliwell.  — F. 
6  Cup  &  song. — P. 

6  Cloath'd  in  yellow.— P. 

7  Cease  to  follow,  or  Quit  thy  fellow, 
or  With  thy   fellow. — P.      Apollo   was 
surnamed  Cynthius,  and  Diana  Cynthia, 
as  they  were  born  on  Mount  Cynthus, 
which  was  sacred  to  them.  Lempriere. — F. 


COME  :  COME  :  COME.  55 

thus  I  meet,  jour  grace  to  greet  ; 

the  grape  is  sweet  &  the  last  is  best. 
64     now  let  fall  yoztr  angry  brawlee  1  leave  your 

from  immortall  &  wayghtye  sway  ; 
tis  a  gracious  thing  to  please  your 


P    ,  •          o  drink  and 

&  neare  you  sing  &c.  sing! 

68     Awfull  sire,  &  king  of  fire  !  Jove> 

let  wine  aspire  to  thy  mighty  throne, 
&  in  this  quire  of  voices  clere 

Come  thou,  &  beare  an  imorttall  drame  2  ;      [page  203] 
72     for  fury  ends,  &  grace  d[e]  sends 

with  Stygian  feinds  to  dwell  for  aye. 
lett  £Tectur  spring  &  thunder  ring 
when  loue  3  doth  sing  &c.  &c. 

76     Vulcan,  Momus,  hermes,  Bacchus,  vuican  and 

Mars  &  Venus,  2  and  tooe, 
Phebus  brightest,  luno  rightest, 
&  the  mightyest  of  the  crew, 
80     loue,  and  all  the  heauens  great  4  hall, 

keepe  festiuall  &  holy-day  !  rejoice 

since  this  sweete  spring  with  her  blacke  thing  Winet 

will  make  you  sing  fa  la  la  la. 

ffins. 


1  brawle. — P.  3  Jove. — P.   MS.  lohue,  with  perhaps 

2  drone,  i.  e.  bass. — P.  the  h  marked  out. — F. 

4  full  here,  struck  out. — F. 


56 


<Srnte  luttfljfjt1 

[In  2  Parts.— P.] 

THIS  is  a  late,  popular  version  of  the  old  romance  of  "  Sir 
Grawain  and  the  Green  Knight,"  preserved  amongst  the  Cot- 
tonian  MSS.  (Nero  A.  X.  fol.  91)  edited  by  Sir  Frederick 
Madden  for  the  Bannatyne  Club  in  1839  and  by  Richard 
Morris  Esq.  for  the  Early  English  Text  Society  in  1864.2  The 
old  romance,  written,  according  to  Mr.  Morris,  about  1320  A.D., 
by  the  author  of  the  Early  English  Alliterative  Poems  also 
printed  by  the  E.  E.  Text  Society,  is  lengthy,  is  written  in 
alliterative  metre,  and  is  as  difficult  as  the  old  alliterative  poems 
usually  are.  To  dissipate  this  besetting  obscurity,  to  relieve  this 
apparent  tediousness,  the  present  translation  and  abridgement 
was  made.  The  form  is  changed ;  the  language  is  modernised. 
In  a  word,  the  old  romance  was  adapted  to  the  taste  and  under 
standing  of  the  translator's  time.  Moreover,  it  was  made  to 
explain  a  custom  of  that  time — a  custom  followed  by  an  Order 
that  was  instituted,  according  to  Selden  and  Camden,  some  three- 
quarters  of  a  century  (A.D.  1399)  after  the  time  when,  according 
to  Mr.  Morris,  the  poem  first  appeared.  It  explains  why 

Knights  of  the  bathe  weare  the  lace 

Untill  they  have  wonen  their  shoen, 
Or  else  a  ladye  of  hye  estate 
From  about  his  necke  shall  it  take 

For  the  doughtye  deeds  hee  hath  done. 

On  this  point  SOMERSET  HERALD  has  kindly  furnished  us  with 
the  following  note : 

1  A    curious   adventure   of    Sir  Ga-  tion  p.  29-31  [of  MS. ;  pp.  70-3  of  text], 

waine,  explaining   a  custome   used  by  — P. 

the  Knights  of  the  Bath. — P.  2  In  his  edition  of  Syr  Gawayne,  Sir 

N.B.  See  a  Fragrant  p.  29  [of  MS.;  F.  Madden  printed  the  present  poem  as 

vol.  i.  p.  70,  1.  213  of  text]  wherein  is  No.  III.  in  his  Appendix,  p.  224-242. 
mention  of  H  Green  Knight  &  decapita- 


THE    GRENE    KNIGHT.  57 

College  of  Arms,  June  8. 

It  appears  to  have  been  the  custom  of  Knights  of  the  Bath,  from  at 
least  as  early  as  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.,  to  wear  a  lace  or  shoulder 
knot  of  white  silk  on  the  left  shoulder  of  their  mantles  or  gowns, 
("  theis  xxxii  nw  kni^tes  preceding  immediately  before  the  king  in 
theire  gownis,1  and  hoodis,  and  tookins  of  whi^te  silke  upon  theire 
shouldeirs  as  is  accustumid  att  the  Bath :  "  MS.  temp.  Edw.  IV., 
fragment  published  by  Hearne  at  the  end  of  Sprott's  Chronicle, 
p.  88).  This  lace  was  to  be  worn  till  it  should  be  taken  off  by  the 
hand  of  the  prince  or  of  some  noble  lady,  upon  the  knight's  having 
performed  "  some  brave  and  considerable  action,"  vide  Anstis's 
History  of  the  Order.  What  this  custom  originated  in  does  not 
appear,  and  the  writer  of  the  poem  has  only  exercised  the  allowed  pri 
vilege  of  his  craft,  in  attributing  the  derivation  to  the  adventure  of  Sir 
Gawaine  and  "  the  Lady  gay  "  in  this  legend  of  "The  Green  Knight." 

In  the  Statutes  of  the  Order,  llth  of  George  I.  1725,  it  is  com 
manded  that  they  shall  wear  on  the  left  shoulder  of  their  mantle  "the 
lace  of  white  silk  antiently  worn  by  the  said  knights,"  but  there  is 
no  mention  of  its  being  taken  off  at  any  time  for  any  reason. 

J.  B.  PLAXCH! 

The  recast  belongs  then  to  an  age  which  was  beginning  to 
study  itself,  and  to  enquire  into  the  origin  of  practices  which  it 
found  itself  observing.  It  is  an  infant  antiquarian  effort.  But  the 
poem  has  lost  much  of  its  vigour  in  the  translation.  It  is  in  its 
present  shape  but  a  shadow  of  itself.  Moreover,  the  following  copy 
appears  much  mutilated.  Several  half-stanzas  have  dropped  out 
altogether,  probably  through  the  sheer  carelessness  of  the  scribe. 

The  two  leading  persons  of  the  romance  are  the  well-known 
Sir  Gawain,  of  King  Arthur's  court,  and  Sir  Bredbeddle  of  the 
West  country — the  same  knight  who  appears  in  King  Arthur 
and  the  King  of  Cornwall,  vol.  i.  p.  67.  The  main  interest 
rests  upon  Sir  Gawain.  His  "  points  three  " — his  boldness,  his 
courtesy,  his  hardiness — are  all  proved.  He  is  eager  for  adven 
tures;  he  unshrinkingly  pursues  them  to  the  end;  he  bears 
extreme  hardships  patiently ;  his  courtesy  is  shown  in  his  nobly 

1  Froissart  says,  "  un  double  cordeau  de  soye  blanche  a  blanches  louppettes  pendans." 


58 


THE    GRENE   KNIGHT. 


resisting  the  overtures  made  him  by  his  host's  wife,  whom  Agostes 
has  brought  to  his  bedside. 

The  ladye  kissed  him  times  three, 
Saith,  "  Without  I  have  the  love  of  thee, 

My  life  standeth  in  dere." 
Sir  G-awaine  blushed  on  the  Lady  bright, 
Saith,  "  Your  husband  is  a  gentle  Knight, 

By  Him  that  bought  mee  deare ! 
To  me  itt  were  great  shame, 
If  I  shold  doe  him  any  grame, 

That  hath  beene  kind  to  mee." 

All  these  provings  are  given  much  more  fully  in  the  original 
romance.  But  enough  is  given  here  to  uphold  the  fame  of  the 
chivalrous  knight.  See  the  Turk  and  Gowin. 


When 
Arthur 
lived,  he 
ruled  all 
Britain, 


JjIST  !  wen 1  Arthur  he  was  ~King, 
he  had  all  att  his  leadinge 

the  broad  He  of  Brittaine  ; 
England  &  Scottland  one  was, 
&  wales  stood  in  the  same  case, 

the  truth  itt  is  not  to  layne.2 


and  lived, for 
a  time,  in 


To  stop  his 
knights  con 
tending  for 
precedency, 


12 


he  drive  allyance  3  out  of  this  lie, 
soe  Arthur  liued  in  peace  a  while, 

as  men  4  of  Mickle  maine, 
knights  strong  of  5  their  degree 
[strove]  which  of  them  hyest  shold  bee  ; 

therof  Arthur  was  not  faine  ; 


he  made  the 

Bound 

Table, 

that  all 


hee  made  the  round  table  for  theii?  behoue, 
that  none  of  them  shold  sitt  aboue, 
but  all  shold  sitt  as  one,6 


1  when.— P. 

2  without  layne,  i.e.  without  lying. — 
or  withot^t  altering  the  line  (only  dele  it 
is)  it  is  "Not  to  conceal  the  truth." — P. 
Old  Norse  leyna,  to  hide.— F. 

3  drave  aliens. — P. 


4  man.— P. 

5  Kn1.8  strove  of  (about)  &c. — P. 

6  at  one. — P.     Compare  Arthur,  E.  E. 
Text  Soc.,  p.  2,  1.  43-53 : 

At  Cayrlyone,  wyUoute  fable, 
he  let  make  J>e  Rouwde  table : 


THE   GRENE    KNIGHT. 


59 


16     the  King  himselfe  in  state  royall, 
Dame  Gueneuer  our  queene  w/thall, 
seemlye  of  body  and  bone. 

itt  fell  againe  the  christmase, 
20     many  came  to  that  Lords  place, 

to  that  worthy e  one 
with  helme  on  l  head,  &  brand  bright, 
all  that  tooke  order  of  knight ; 
24         none  wold  linger  att  home. 

there  was  noe  castle  nor  manoia*  free 
that  might  harbour  that  companye, 

their  puissance  was  soe  great. 
28     their  tents  vp  the  pight  2 

for  to  lodge  there  all  that  night, 
therto  were  sett  to  meate. 


might  be 
equal. 


One  Christ 
inas  many 
knights 
came  to 
Arthur's 
court. 


No  house 
could  hold 
all  of  them, 


so  they 
pitched  their 
tents, 


Messengers  there  came  [&]  went3 
32     with  much  victualls  verament 
both  by  way  &  streete  ; 

wine  &  wild  fowle  thither  was  brought, 

within  they  spared  nought 
36         for  gold,  &  they  might  itt  gett. 

Now  of  King  Arthur  noe  more  I  mell  4  ; 
but  of  a  venterous  knight  I  will  you  tell 5 

that  dwelled  in  the  west  countrye  G  ; 
40     Sir  Bredbeddle,  for  sooth  he  hett  7; 
he  was  a  man  of  Mickele  might, 

&  Lord  of  great  bewtye. 


And  why  \>at  he  maked  hyt  Jms, 
J?is  was  >e  resoun  y-wyss, 
bat  no  man  schulde  sytt  aboue  oj?er, 
ne  haue  indignacioim  of  hys  broker ; 
And  alle  hadde  .00.  seruyse, 
For  no  pryde  scholde  aryse 
For  any  degree  of  syttynge 
OJ?er  for  any  seruyuge. — F. 


and  tood 
was  served 
to  them. 


But  I  shall 
leave 
Arthur, 
and  tell  you 
about 
Sir  Bred 
beddle. 


MS.  &.— F. 

pitched,  or  put. — P. 

and  went. — P. 

mell,  meddle,  fr.  meler.     Urry. — P. 

I  tell.— P. 

6  See  line  515.— F. 

7  hight,  was  called. — P.     The  earlier 
romance  makes  the  knight's  name  "Bern- 


60 


THE    GRENE    KNIGHT. 


He  loved  his 
•wife  dearly, 


but  she 
loved  Sir 
Gawaine. 


he  had  a  lady  to  his  l  wiffe, 
44     he  loued  her  deerlye  as  his  liffe, 

shee  was  both  blyth  and  blee  2  ; 
because  S^'r  Gawaine  was  stiffe  in  stowre, 
shee  loued  him.  priuilye  paramour,3 
48         &  4  shee  neuer  him  see. 


Her  mother 
Agostes 
dealt  in 
witchcraft, 


itt  was  Agostes  that  was  her  mother  ; 
itt  was  witchcraft  &  noe  other 
that  shee  dealt  w^th  all ; 


could  trans 
form  men, 


and  told 
Bredbeddle 
to  go,  trans 
formed, 


52     shee  cold  transpose  knights  &  swaine 
like  as  in  battaile  they  were  slaine, 

wounded  5  both  Lim  &  lightt,6 
shee  taught  her  sonne  the  knight  alsoe 
56     in  transposed  likenesse  he  shold  goe  7 
both  by  fell  and  frythe  ; 


to  Arthur's 
court  to  see 
adventures. 


This  was  in 
order  to  get 


Gawaine 


shee  said,  "thou  shalt  to  Arthurs  hall; 

for  there  great  aduentures  shall  befall 
60         That  euer  saw  ~K.ing  or  Knight." 

all  was  for  her  daughters  sake, 

that  which  she  8  soe  sadlye  spake 

to  her  sonne- in-law  the  JLnight,    , 
64     because  S*'r  Gawaine  was  bold  and  hardye, 


lak  de  Hautdesert"  (p.  78,  1.  2445);  it 
does  not  make  his  wife  fall  in  love  with 
Gawain,  but  Bernlak  sends  her  to  tempt 
him  (p.  75,  1.  2362).  Gawain  comes  out 
of  the  temptation  as  one  of  the  most 
faultless  men  that  ever  walked  on  foot, 
and  as  much  above  other  knights  as  a 
pearl  is  above  white  pese  (1.  2364).  The 
enchantress  is  Morgne  la  Faye,  Arthur's 
half-sister  and  Gawaine1  s  aunt ;  and  she 
sends  Bernlak  to  Arthur's  court  in  the 
hope  that  his  talking  with  his  head  in 
hand  would  bereave  all  Arthur's  knights 
of  their  wits,  and  grieve  Guinevere,  and 
make  her  die  (p.  78, 1.  2460).  The  de 
scription  of  Morgne  la  Faye  (p.  30-1)  is 


very  good,  with  her  rough  yellow  wrinkled 
cheeks,  her  covered  neck,  her  black  chin 
muffled  up  with  white  vails,  her  fore 
head  enfolded  in  silk,  showing  only  her 
black  brows,  eyes,  nose,  and  lips  "  sowe 
to  se  and  selJyly  blered." — F. 

1  MS.  wis.— F. 

2  so   bright   of  blee,    blee   is   colour, 
complexion,  bleo  S.  Color.     Urry. — P. 

3  I  w*  read  par  amour. — P. 

4  and  yet. — P. 

5  and  wound. — P. 

6  lythe,  a  joint,  a  limb,  a  nerve,  Sax. 
li«,  artus.     Urry.— P. 

7  to  go. — P. 

8  MS.  thai  theye  which. — F. 


THE    GKENE    KNIGHT. 


61 


therto  full  of  curtesye,1 

to  bring  him  into  her  sight. 


brought  to 
her  daugh 
ter. 


the  knight  said  "  soe  mote  I  thee, 
68     to  Arthurs  court  will  I  mee  hye 
for  to  praise  thee  right, 

&  to  proue  Gawaines  points  3  ; 

&  thai  be  true  that  men  tell  me, 
72         by  Mary  Most  of  Might." 


Bredbeddle 
agrees  to  go, 


and  prove 
whether 
Gawaine  is 
so  good. 


7G 


earlye,  soone  as  itt  was  day, 
the  Knight  dressed  him  full  gay, 

vmstrode  2  a  full  good  steecle  ; 
helme  and  hawberke  both  he  hent, 
a  long  fauchioii  verament 

to  fend  them  in  his  neede. 


Bredbeddle 
starts  next 
day 

on  horse 
back. 


that 3  was  a  lolly  sight  to  seene, 
80     when  horsse  and  armour  was  all  greene, 

&  weapon  that  hee  bare, 
when  that  burne  was  harnisht  still, 
his  countenance  he  became  right  well, 
84  .      I  dare  itt  safely e  sweare. 


He  was  a 
goodly  sight, 
in  his  green 
armour,  and 
on  his  green 
horse. 


88 


that  time  att  Carleile  lay  our  JLing ; 
att  a  Castle  of  flatting  was  his  dwelling, 

in  the  fforrest  of  delamore.4 
for  sooth  he  5  rode,  the  sooth  to  say, 
to  Carleile  6  he  came  on  Christmas  day, 

into  that  fayre  countrye.7 


Arthur  is  at 
Carlisle, 
at  Castle 
Flatting, 
in  Delamere 


Bredbeddle 
arrives  on 
Christmas 
day. 


1  "  |>at  fyne  fader  of  nurture  "  the  old 
romance  calls  him,  p.  29,  1.  919. — F. 

2  and  strode,  i.  e.  bestrode. — P.    um  = 
round.     See  the  elaborate  description  of 
the  knight,  his  armour  and  horse,  in  the 
old  romance,  p.  5-6,  1.  151-202. — F. 


3  Yt,  i.e.  it.— P. 

4  Dftlamere.— P.     In  Cheshire.— H. 

5  for  soe  hee. — P. 

6  Camylot,  in  the  old  romance. — F. 

7  countrye  faire. — P. 


62 


The  porter 

asks 

him  where 

he's  going  to. 


"  To  see 
King  Arthur 
and  his 
lords." 


The  porter 


tells  Arthur 


— 1 


THE   GEENE   KNIGHT. 


when  he  into  thai  place  came,1 

92     the  porter  thought  him  a  Maruelous  groome 

he  saith,  "  Sir,  wither  wold  yee  ?  " 
hee  said,  "  I  am  a  venterous  ~Knighi, 
&  of  yo^r  ~King  wold  haue  sight, 

96         &  other  LonZs  thai  heere  bee." 

noe  word  to  him  the  porter  spake, 
but  left  him  standing  att  the  gate, 

&  went  forth,  as  I  weene, 
100     &  kneeled  downe  before  the  'K.ing ; 
saith,  "in  lifes  dayes  old  or  younge, 

such  a  sight  I  haue  not  seene  ! 


of  the  Green 

Knight's 

arrival, 


and  the 
king 

orders  him 
to  be  let  in. 


"  for  yonder  att  your  gates  right ;  " 
104     he  saith,  "  hee  is  2  a  venterous  JLnighi ; 

all  his  vesture  is  greene." 
then  spake  the  'King  proudest  in  all,3 
saith,  "  bring  him  into  the  hall ; 
108         let  vs  see  what  hee  doth  meane." 


Bredbeddle 
comes, 


wishes 
Arthur  God 
speed, 


112 


when  the  greene  Knight  came  before  the  K.ing, 
he  stood  in  his  stirrops  strechinge, 

&  spoke  with  voice  cleere, 
&  saith,  "  Km*/  Arthur,  god  saue  thee 
as  thou  sittest  in  thy  prosperitye, 

&  Maintaine  thine  honor  4  ! 


and  says  he 
has  come 


to  challenge 
his  lords  to 
a  trial  of 
manhood. 


"  why  5  thou  wold  me  nothing  but  right ; 

116     I  am  come  hither  a  venterous  [Knight,6] 

&  kayred  7  thorrow  countrye  farr,8 
to  proue  poynts  in  thy  pallace 
thai  longeth  to  manhood  in  euerye  case 

120         among  thy  Juords  deere." 


come  or  was  come. — P. 

there  is.— P. 

first  or  foremost  of  all. — P. 

honnere. — P. 

for  why,  because. — F. 


•  Knight.— P. 

7  have  gone ;  A.-S.  cerran,  cirran,  to 
turn,  pass  over  or  by. — F. 

8  farre,  or  perhaps  faire. — P. 


THE    GRENE    KNIGHT. 


63 


the  King,  he  sayd  l  full  still  2 
till  he  had  said  all  his  Avill  ; 

certein  thus  can  3  he  say  : 
124     "  as  I  am  true  knight  and  King, 
thou  shalt  haue  thy  askinge  ! 

I  will  not  say  thy  nay,4 

"  whether  thou  wilt  5  on  foote  fighting, 

1 28     or  on  steed  backe  6  iusting 
for  loue  of  Ladyes  gay. 
If  &  thine  armor  be  not  fine, 
I  will  giue  thee  part  of  mine." 

132         "  god  amercy,  LorcZ !  "  can  he  say, 

"  here  I  make  a  challenging 

among  tlie  Lords  both  old  and  younge 

that  Avorthy  beene  in  Aveede, 
136     which  of  them  Avill  take  in  hand  7 — 
hee  that  is  both  stiffe  and  stronge 
and  full  good  att  need — 

"  I  shall  lay  my  head  do\vne, 

140     strike  itt  of  if  he  can  8 

w-/th  a  stroke  to  garr  9  itt  bleed, 
for  this  day  12  monthe  another  at  his  : 
let  me  see  who  will  answer  this, 

144         a  knight 10  that  is  doughty e  of  deed; 


Arthur 


consents  to 
let  him  try 


on  foot, 

or  horse 
back. 


Bredbeddle 
challenges 
Arthur's 
lords  : 


he'll  let  i 
cue 


[page  205]    cnt  his  hcad 
C't  /"5     off, 


for  a  return 
cut  at  his 
executioner's 
head  a  year 
hence 


"  for  this  day  12  month,  the  sooth  to  say, 
let  him  come  to  me  &  seicth  his  praye  ; 
rudlye,11  or  euer  hee  blin,12 


1  satt, — P. 

2  quietly.— P. 

3  certes  then  'gan. — P. 

.*  say  thee  nay. — P.  \>y  is  the  abla 
tive  of  the  A. -Sax.  demonstrative  pro 
noun,  se,  seo,  \><et. — F. 

5  wilt  be. — P.  wilt  =  wishest,  pre- 
ferest.— H. 


6  on  steed-back,   i.e.   on  horse-back. 
—P. 

7  hond.— P. 

8  con.— P. 

9  gar,  cause. — F. 

10  perhaps  To  a  kl.  —P. 

11  redlye,  i.e.  readily.     Vid.  G.D.— P. 

12  blin,  linger,  delay.— P. 


64 


THK    GHENE    KNIGHT. 


at  the 
Greene 
Chappell. 


148     whither  to  come,  I  shall  him  tell, 

the  readie  way  to  the  greene  chappell, 
thai  place  I  will  be  in." 


Kay 


152 


156 


the  ~K.ing  att  ease  sate  full  still, 
&  all  his  lords  said  but  litle  l 

till  he  had  said  all  his  will, 
vpp  stood  Sft'r  Kay  thai  crabbed  knighi, 
spake  mightye  words  thai  were  of  height, 

thai  were  both  Loud  and  shrill ; 


accepts  the 
chall 


The  other 
knights  tell 
Kay  to  be 
quiet ; 
he's  always 
getting  into 
a  mess. 


160 


"  I  shall  strike  his  necke  in  tooe, 
the  head  away  the  body  froe." 

the  bade  him  all  be  still, 
saith,2  "  Kay,  of  thy  dints  make  noe  rouse,3 
thou  wottest  full  litle  what 4  thou  does  5  ; 

noe  good,  but  Mickle  ill." 


Sir  Gawaine        164 


says  it  will 

be  too  bad  if 

Arthur 

doesn't  let 

him  take  the         168 

adventure. 


Eche  man  wold  this  deed  haue  done, 
vp  start  Sir  Gawaine  soone, 

vpon  his  knees  can  kneele, 
he  said,  "  thai  were  great  villanye 
without  you  put  this  deede  to  me, 

my  leege,  as  I  haue  sayd  ; 


Arthur 
consents, 


but  not  till 
after  dinner. 


172 


"  remember,  I  am  your  sisters  sonne.' 
the  King  said,  "  I  grant  thy  boone  ; 

but  mirth  is  best  att  meele ; 
cheere  thy  guest,  and  giue  him  wine, 
&  after  dinner,  to  itt  fine, 

&  sett  the  buffett  well !  " 


1  littel.— P. 

2  i.  e.  they  say. — P. 

3  praise,  extolling,  boast. — Jun.  per 


haps  roust,  noise.     G.  Doug. — P. 

4  that. — P. 

5  doest.— P. 


THE    GRENE    KNIGHT. 


65 


now  the  greene  knight  is  set  att  meate, 
176     seemlye  l  serued  in  his  seate, 

beside  the  round  table. 
*  to  talke  of  his  welfare,  nothing  he  needs, 

like  a  Knight  himselfe  he  feeds, 
180         wz'th  long  time  reasnable.2 


Bredbeddle 
dines. 


when  the  dinner,  it  was  done, 

the  King  said  to  Sir  Gawaine  soone, 

withouten  any  fable 

184     he  said,  "  on  3  you  will  doe  this  deede, 
I  pray  lesus  be  you?  speede  ! 

this  knight  is  nothing  vnstable." 


Arthur 
wishes 
Gawaine 


God  speed. 

Bredbeddle 
is  a  stiff  one. 


the  greene  Knight  his  head  downe  layd  ; 

188     Sir  Gawaine,  to  the  axe  he  braid  4 

to  strike  with  eger  will ; 
he  stroke  the  necke  bone  in  twaine, 
the  blood  burst  out  in  euerye  vaine, 

192         the  head  from  the  body  fell. 


Gawaine 


chops  off 

Bredbeddle's 

head. 


196 


the  greene  Knight  his  head  vp  hent,5 
into  his  saddle  wightilye  6  he  sprent, 

spake  words  both  Lowd  &  shrill, 
saith  :  "  Gawaine  !  thinke  on  thy  couenant ! 
this  day  12  monthes  see  thou  ne  want 

to  come  to  the  greene  chappell !  " 


Bredbeddla 
picks  it  up, 
jumps  into 
his  saddle, 


reminds 
Gawaine  to 
meet  him 
twelve 
months 
hence, 


1  MS.  seenlye,  with  a  horizontal  line 
and  two    vertical    strokes   over  the  n, 
denoting   a    contraction,    and    showing 
that  I   oxight   to  have   read  as   m  the 
similar  n  in  the  heading  of  "  Eger  and 
Grine,"  vol.  i.  p.  341.     The  title  would 
then  have  corresponded  with  the  text; 
but  never  having  noticed  the  contraction 
before,  I  hesitated  to  alter  the  MS. — F. 

2  reasonable. — P. 

VOL.  II. 


3  an.— P. 

4  See  Herbert  Coleridge's  Glossary  on 
this  word,  Old  Norse  bregfta.  He  abstracts 
from  Egilson.     As   a  neuter  verb  it  is 
used  "  of  any  violent  motion  of  body, 
as  to  leap." — F. 

8  took. — P.  The  old  romance  makes 
some  of  the  knights  kick  the  head  with 
their  feet,  1.  428. — F. 

6  actively. — P. 


66 


THE   GRENE   KNIGHT. 


rides  off, 


puts  his 
head  on 
again, 

and  promises 
Gawaine 
a  better 
buffet. 


All  had  great  maruell,  thai  the  see 

200     thai  he  spake  so  merrilye 

&  bare  his  head  in  his  hand, 
forth  att  the  hall  dore  he  rode  right, 
and  thai  saw  both  ~K.ing  and  knight 

204         and  Lords  thai  were  in  land. 

without  the  hall  dore,  the  sooth  to  saine, 
hee  sett  his  head  vpon  againe,1 

saies,  "  Arthur,  haue  heere  my  hand  ! 
208     when-soeuer  the  ~K.nighi  cometh  to  mee, 
a  better  buffett  sickerlye 

I  dare  him  well  warrand." 


Arthur  is 
very  sorry 
for  Gawaine, 


BO  is  Lance 
lot. 


Gawaine 
cheers  them 
up, 


swears  that 


the  greene  ~Knighi  away  went. 

212     all  this  was  done  by  enchantment 
thai  the  old  witch  had  wrought, 
sore  sicke  fell  Arthur  the  TLing, 
and  for  him  made  great  mourning 

216     ,  that  into  such  bale  was  brought. 

the  Queen,  shee  weeped  for  his  sake  ; 
sorry  was  Sir  Lancelott  dulake, 

&  other  were  dreery  in  thought 

220     because  he  was  brought  into  great  perill ; 

his  mightye  manhood  will  not  availe, 

thai  before  hath  freshlye  fought. 

Sir  Gawaine  comfort  "King  and  Queen, 
224     &  all  the  doughtye  there  be-deene  2  ; 

he  bade  the  shold  be  still; 
said,  "  of  my  deede  I  was  neuer  feard,3 
nor  yett  I  am  nothing  a-dread, 
228         I  swere  by  Samt  Michaell ; 


[page  206] 


1  The  old  romance  makes  the  head 
open  its  eyelids  a.nd  speak  while  it's  on 
the  knight's  hand,  1.  446.— F. 


F. 


2  immediately. — P.    or  all  together. — 

3  fraid.— P. 


THE    GKENE   KNIGHT. 


67 


"  for  when  draweth  toward  my  day, 
I  will  dresse  me  in  mine  array 

my  promise  to  fulfill. 
232     Sir,"  he  saith,  "  as  I  haue  blis, 

I  wott  not  where  the  greene  chappell  is, 
therfore  seeke  itt  I  will." 

the  royall  Couett l  verament 
236     all  rought 2  Sir  Gawaines  intent, 
they  thought  itt  was  the  best, 
they  went  forth  into  the  feild, 
knights  that  ware  both  speare  and  sheeld 
240         the  priced  3  forth  full  prest 4  ; 

^  some  chuse  them  to  lustinge, 
some  to  dance,  Reuell,  and  sing  ; 

of  mirth  the  wold  not  rest. 
244     all  they  swore  together  in  fere, 

that  and  S?'r  Gawaine  ouer-come  were, 
the  wold  bren  all  the  west. 

Now  leaue  wee  the  TLing  in  his  pallace. 

248     the  greene  Knight  come  home  is 

to  his  owne  Castle  ; 
this  folke  frend  5  when  he  came  home 
what  doughtye  deeds  he  had  done. 

252         nothing  he  wold  them  tell ; 

full  well  hee  wist  in  certaine 
that  his  wiffe  loued  Sir  Gawaine 

that  comelye  was  vnder  kell.6 
256     listen,  LorcZs  7  !  &  yee  will  sitt, 
&  yee  shall  heere  the  second  ffitt, 

what  adventures  Sir  Gawaine  befell. 


he'll  keep 
his  pledge, 


and  will 
seek  out 
the  Green 
Chapel. 


The  court 
approve, 


and  go  forth 


to  joust, 
revel, 
and  sport, 

swearing  to 
revenge 
Gawaine  if 
he's  killed. 


Bredbeddle 
reaches  his 
home, 


tells  no  one 
what  he  has 
done, 


but  knows 
that  his  wife 
loves 
Gawaine. 


1  royall    Courtt. — P.      ?    covey,   Fr. 
couvee. — F. 

2  ?  reached,  took  in.— F. 

3  pricked.— P. 

4  ready.— P. 

5  His  folke  freyn'd,  i.  e.  inquired. — P. 


6  A  child's  caul,  any  thin  membrane. 
"  Kim   or  kell  wherein  the  bowels  are 
lapt."    Florio,  p.  340.     Sir  John  "  rofe 
my  kell "  (deflowered  me)  MS.  Cantab. 
Ff.  v.  48,  fo.  Ill,  Halliwell's  Gloss.— F. 

7  Lordings. — P. 


68 


THE   GKENE   KNIGHT. 


The  year  is 
up,  and 
Gawaine 
must  go. 


The  king 
and  court 
grieve. 


260 


2?  parte. 


264 


[Part  II] 

The  day  is  come  thai  Gawaine  must  gone ; 
Knights  &  Ladyes  waxed  wann 

thai  were  without  in  that  place ; 
the  King  himselfe  siked  ill, 
ther  Queen  a  swounding  almost  fell, 

to  that  lorney  when  he  shold  passe. 


His  steed 
was  dapple- 
grey, 


268 


When  he  was  in  armour  bright, 

he  was  one  of  the  goodlyest  "Knights 

that  euer  in  brittaine  was  borne, 
they  brought  So*  Gawaine  a  steed, 
was  dapple  gray  and  good  att  need,1 

I  tell  w^thouten  scorne  ; 


his  bridle 
jewelled; 


his  stirrups 
Bilk; 


his  bridle  was  w^'th  stones  sett, 
272    w^th  gold  &  pearle  ouerfrett, 
&  stones  of  great  vertue  ; 

he  was  of  a  furley  2  kind ; 

his  stirropps  were  of  silke  of  ynd ; 
276        I  tell  you  this  tale  for  true. 


he  glittered 
like  gold. 


when  he  rode  oner  the  Mold, 
his  geere  glistered  as  gold. 

by  the  way  as  he  rode, 

280    many  furley  s  3  he  there  did  see, 

fowles  by  the  water  did  flee, 

by  brim.es  &  bankes  soe  broad. 


1  G-ryngolet  is  the  steed's  name  in  the 
old  romance,  but  his  colour  is  not  given. 
All  the  jolly  bits  about  his  trappings, 
and  Grawaine's  armour,  with  its  pentangel 
devised  by  Solomon,  and  called  in 
English  "the  endeles  knot,"  are  omitted 


here.— F. 

2  ferlie,    wonder,     wonderful ;      Sax. 
ferlic,    repentinus,     horrendus,   Gl.    ad 
G.D.— P. 

3  ?  MS.  furkgs,  for  ferlies,  wonders. 
— F. 


THE    GRENE    KNIGHT. 


69 


many  fur-leys  there  saw  hee 
284    of  wohies  &  wild  beasts  sikerlye  ; 

on  hunting  hee  tooke  most  heede. 
forth  he  rode,  the  sooth  to  tell, 
for  to  seeke  the  greene  chappell, 
288        he  wist  not  where  l  indeed. 


Gawaine  sees 

wondrous 

beasts; 


As  he  rode  in  an  eue[n]ing  late, 
riding  downe  a  greene  gate,2 

a  faire  castell  saw  hee,3 
292    that  seemed  a  place  of  Mickle  pride ; 
thitherward  Sir  Gawaine  can  ryde 

to  gett  some  harborrowe.4 


[page  207] 


discerns  a 
castle, 


rides  to 
it, 


thither  he  came  in  the  twylight, 
296    he  was  ware  of  a  gentle  Knight, 
the  Lord  of  the  place  was  hee. 
Meekly  to  him  S^r  Gawaine  can  speake, 
&  asked  him,  "for  King  Arthurs  sake, 
300        of  harborrowe  I  pray  thee  ! 


and  asks  its 
lord 


lodging 


304 


"  I  am  a  far  Labordd  Knight, 

I  pray  you  lodge  me  all  this  night." 

he  sayd  him  not  nay, 

hee  tooke  him  by  the  arme  &  led  him  to  the  hall, 
a  poore  child  5  can  hee  call, 

saith,  "  dight  well  this  palfrey." 


for the  night. 


The  lord 
leads  him  in, 


into  a  chamber  the  went  a  full  great  speed ; 
308   there  the  found  all  things  readye  att  need, 
I  dare  safelye  swere  ; 


1  The  h  is  made  over  an  er  in  the  MS. 
-F. 

2  gate,  way,  Isl.  Gata,  via.  Gl.  ad  Gr.D. 
-P. 

8  hee  saw,  or  saw  he  there. — P. 


4  harburee  or  karbere.  Lodging.  Urry. 

5  "  Sere  segges,"  several  men,  "stabeled 
his  stede,  stif  men  in-noje."     Old  Eom. 
which   has   a    fine   description  of    the 
castle  and  room,  &c. — F. 


70 


THE   GRENE   KNIGHT. 


and  they  go 
to  supper. 

The  lord's 
wife 


sups  with 
them, 


and  then 
retires. 


The  lord 
asks  Ga- 
waine 


what  he  has 
come  there 
for. 


He  will  keep 
his  counsel. 


fier  in  chambers  burning  bright, 
candles  in  chandlers  l  burning  light ; 
312        to  supper  the  went  full  yare.2 

he  sent  after  his  Ladye  bright 

to  come  to  supp  with  that  gentle  "Knight, 

&  shee  came  blythe  with-all ; 
316    forth  shee  came  then  anon, 

her  Maids  following  her  eche  one 

in  robes  of  rich  pall.3 

as  shee  sate  att  her  supper, 
320    euer-more  the  Ladye  clere 

Sir  Grawaine  shee  looked  vpon. 
when  the  supper  it  was  done, 
shee  tooke  her  Maids,  &  to  her  chamber  gone.4 

324    he  cheered  the  IKnight  &  gaue  him  wine, 
&  said,  "  welcome,  by  St.  Martine  ! 

I  pray  you  take  itt  for  none  ill ; 
328    one  thing,  Sir,  I  wold  you  pray  ; 
what  you  make  soe  farr  this  way  ? 
the  truth  you  wold  me  tell ; 

"  I  am  a  ~Knight,  &  soe  are  yee  ; 

332    Yo^r  concell,  an  you  will  tell  mee, 

forsooth  keepe  itt  I  will ; 
for  if  itt  be  poynt  of  any  dread,  ^ 

perchance  I  may  helpe  att  need     ^ 

336        either  lowd  or  still." 


Gawaine 
tells  him  all, 
not  knowing 
he  was  in 


for  5  his  words  that  were  soe  smooth, 
had  Sir  Gawaine  wist  the  soothe, 
all  he  wold  not  haue  told, 


1  Candlesticks.— P. 

2  Yare,  acutus,  ready,  eager,  nimble. 
—P. 

3  any  rich  or  fine  Cloth,  but  properly 
purple:  taken   from  the  Kobe  worn  by 
Bishops. — P.     See  the  description  of  the 


Ladye  in  the  old  romance,  with  "  Hir 
brest  &  hir  bry3t  J?rote  bare  displayed," 
(p.  30-1).— F. 

4  Next  line  wanting  in  the  MS. — F. 

5  for  all. — P.     The  old  romance  keeps 
the  secret  till  the  end. — F. 


THE    GKENE    KNIGHT. 


71 


340    for  thai  was  the  greene  Knight 

that  hee  was  lodged  with  that  night, 
&  harbarrowes  l  in  his  hold. 


Bredbeddle'a 
castle. 


he  saith,  "  as  to  the  greene  chappell, 

344    thitherward  I  can  you  tell, 

itt  is  but  furlongs  3. 
the  Master  of  it  is  a  venterous  Knight, 
&  workes  by  witchcraft  day  &  night, 

348        With  many  a  great  furley.2 

\  "  if  he  worke  with  neuer  soe  much  frauce,3 
Hie  is  curteous  as  he  sees  cause. 

I  tell  you  sikerlye, 

352    you  shall  abyde,  &  take  your  rest, 
&  I  will  into  yonder  fforrest 
vnder  the  greenwood  tree." 

they  plight  their  truthes  4  to  beleeue,5 

356    either  with  other  for  to  deale, 

whether  it  were  siluer  or  gold ; 
he  said,  "we  2  both  [sworn6]  wilbe, 
what  soeuer  god  sends  you  &  mee, 

360        to  be  parted  on  the  Mold." 

—  •  ^ 

The  greene  Knight  went  on  hunting  7  ; 

Sir  Gawaine  in  the  castle  beinge, 
lay  sleeping  in  his  bed. 


Bredbeddle 
directs 
Gawaine  to 
the  Green 
Chapel, 


(whose 


works 
witchcraft), 


but  advises 
him  to  stay 
and  rest. 


They  agree 
to  share 


whatever 
either  may 
get. 


harberoVd,  lodged.— P. 

wonder. — P. 

frais — to    make    a    noise, 
:  ad  G.D.— P. 

trothes. — P. 

be  leil.— P.  See  Leele,  1. 478.  But 
if  the  text  is  right,  see  Wedgwood  on  be 
lieve  in  his  English  Etymology.  "  The 
fundamental  notion  seems  to  be,  to  ap 
prove,  to  sanction  an  arrangement,  to 
deem  an  object  in  accordance  with  a 
certain  standard  of  fitness." — F. 


6  ?      See  1.  481,   "wee  were  both." 
The  old  romance  sets  out  the  agreement 
at  length,  1.  1105-9:   What  the  Green 
Knight  wins  hunting  in  the  wood,  Ga 
waine  is  to  have ;  what  Gawaine  gets  at 
home,  the  Green  Knight  is  to  have — 
"  Sweet,  swap  we  so,  swear  with  truth, 
whether,  man,  loss  befall,  or  better." — F. 

7  The   spirited   accounts   in    the   old 
romance  of  the  three-days'  hunt  of  the  deer, 
wild  boar,  and  fox,  are  all  left  out  here. 
All  the  go  is  taken  out  of  the  poem. — F. 


72 


THE    GRENE   KNIGHT. 


Bredbeddle's 
witch 
mother-in- 
law 


364    Vprose  the  old  witche  w^'th  hast  throwe,1 
&  to  her  dauhter  can  shee  goe, 
&  said,  "  be  not  adread  !  " 


[page  208] 


tells  his  wife 


that  Ga- 
waine 
is  in  the 
castle, 
and  takes 
her  to  him, 


to  her  daughter  can  shee  say, 

368    "  the  man  thai  thon  hast  wisht  many  a  day, 

of  him  thon  maist  be  sped  ; 
for  S^r  Gawaine  thai  cnrteons  ~K.nighi 
is  lodged  in  this  hall  all  night." 

372        shee  brought  _her  to  his  bedd. 


and  tells 
him  to 
embrace  her. 


shee  saith,  "  gentle  ~Knighi}  awake  ! 
&  for  this  faire  Ladies  sake 

thai  hath  loued  thee  soe  deere, 
376    take  her  boldly  in  thine  armes, 

there  is  noe  man  shall  doe  thee  harme  ; " 

now  beene  they  both  heere. 


The  wife 
kisses  him 
thrice, 
and  asks  hia 
love. 

Gawaine 


the  ladye  kissed  him  times  3, 
380    saith,  "  without  I  have  the  lone  of  thee, 

my  life  standeth  in  dere.2  " 
S^'r  Gawaine  blnshed  on  the  Lady  bright, 
saith,  "  yo^r  husband  is  a  gentle  ~K.nighi, 
384        by  him  thai  bought  mee  deare  ! 


shame  his 
host. 


"  to  me  itt  were  great  shame 
if  I  shold  doe  him  any  grame,3 

thai  hath  beene  kind  to  mee ; 
388    for  I  haue  such  a  deede  to  doe, 
thai  I  can  neyther  rest  nor  roe,4 

att  an  end  till  itt  bee." 


1  tho,  then. — P.  Sc.  thro,  thra,  eager, 
ernest,  Isl.  thrd,  pertinax.  Jamieson.  The 
old  romance  makes  the  Green  Knight's 
wife  go  to  Gawaine  of  herself,  and  on 
three  successive  nights. — F. 


2  Dere,  Isedere,  nocere.     Lye. — P. 

3  Grame — Chauc1: .  Grief,  sorrow,  vexa 
tion,  anger,  madness,  trouble,  affliction. 
S.  D,  am  [or  Gram,]  furor.     Urry. — P, 

4  A. -Sax.  row,  qiiiet,  repose. — F. 


THE    GRENE    KNIGHT. 


73 


then  spake  that  Ladye  gay, 
392    saith,  "  tell  me  some  *  of  jour  lourney, 

yowr  succour  I  may  bee ; 
if  itt  he  poynt  of  any  warr, 
there  shall  noe  man  doe  you  noe  darr  2 
396        &  yee  wilbe  gouerned  by  mee  ; 

"  for  heere  I  haue  a  lace  of  silke, 
it  is  as  white  as  any  milke, 

&  of  a  great  value." 
400    shee  saith,  "  I  dare  safelye  sweare 
there  shall  noe  man  doe  you  deere  3 

when  you  haue  it  4  vpon  you." 

Sir  Gawaine  spake  mildlye  in  the  place, 
404    he  thanked  the  Lady  &  tooke  the  lace, 
&  promised  her  to  come  againe. 

the  ~K.night  in  the  fforrest  slew  many  a  hind, 

other  venison  he  cold  none  find 
408        but  wild  bores  on  the  plaine. 

plentye  of  does  &  wild  swine, 
foxes  &  other  ravine, 

as  I  hard  true  men  tell. 
412    S*r  Gawaine  swore  sicker  lye 

"  home5  to  your  owne,  welcome  you  bee, 
by  him  that  harrowes  hell !  " 

the  greene  Knight  his  venison  downe  Layd  ; 
416    then  to  Sir  Gawaine  thus  hee  said, 
"  tell  me  anon  in  heght,6 

what  noueltyes  that  you  haue  won, 

for  heers  plenty  of  venison." 
420        Sir  Gawaine  said  full  right, 


The  wife 


offers  to 
help  Ga 
waine  in  his 
adventure, 


and  will 
give  him  a 
silk  lace 


that  will 
protect  him 
from  all 
harm. 


Gawaine 
takes  the 
lace. 


Bredbeddle, 

after 

hunting, 


is  welcomed 
hon  e  by 
Gawaine. 


He  shares 
his  venison 
with  Ga 
waine, 


1  Sir.— P. 

2  A.-S.  dar,  injury,  hurt. — F. 

8  hurt,  vid.  supra  [p.  72,  n.  2]. — P. 
4  on  you. — P.     There  is  a  bit  of  a  p 


or  &  in  the  MS.  between  it  and  vpon. — F. 

5  to    your    own   home  welcome,   &c. 
—P. 

6  speed ;  like  highing,  from  to  high, — F. 


74 


THE    GRENE   KNIGHT. 


and  Ga 
waine  gives 
him  his 
three  kisses, 


Sir  Gawaine  sware  by  S*.  Leonard,1 

"  such  as  god  sends,  you  shall  haue  part :  " 

in  his  armes  he  hent  the  "Knight, 
424   &  there  he  kissed  him  times  3, 

saith,  "heere  is  such  as  god  sends  mee, 

by  Mary  most  of  Might." 


but  keeps 
back  the 
lace. 


Next  day 


euer  priuilye  he  held  the  Lace  : 
428    thai  was  all  the  villanye  thai  euer  was 
prooued  by  2  S^r  Gawaine  the  gay. 

then  to  bed  soone  the  went, 

&  sleeped  there  verament 
432         till  morrow  itt  was  day. 


Gawaine 
takes  leave, 


and  rides 
towards  the 
chapel. 


then  Sir  Gawaine  soe  curteous  &  free, 
his  leaue  soone  taketh  hee 

att  3  the  Lady  soe  gaye  ; 
436   Hee  thanked  her,  &  tooke  the  lace, 
&  rode  towards  the  chappell  apace ; 

he  knew  noe  whitt  the  way. 


[page  209] 


Bredbeddle 
rides  there 
too. 


euer  more  in  his  thought  he  had 
440   whether  he  shold  worke  as  the  Ladye  bade, 
thai  was  soe  curteous  &  sheene. 

the  greene  "knighi  rode  another  way ; 

he  transposed  him  in  another  array, 
444         before  as  it  was  greene. 


Gawaine 
hears  a  horn, 


as  Sir  Gawaine  rode  ouer  the  plain e, 
he  hard  one  high  4  vpon  a  Mountaine 
a  home  blowne  full  lowde. 


1  November  6. — S.  Leonard  or  Lionart 
may  be  termed  the  Howard  of  the  sixth 


who  were  confined  in  the  dungeons  which 
his  charity  prompted  him  to  visit.    Notes 


century.  He  was  . .  probably  received  into       on  the  Months,  p.  341. 
the  Church  at  the  same  time  as  his  royal  2  on.— P.     A.-Sax.  be,  bi,  of,  concern 

ing.— F. 


master,  Clovis,  with  whom   he  was  in       ing 
high  favour,  and  who  gave  him  permission 
to  set  many  of  the  prisoners  at  liberty 


of.— P.     Att  is  right.— F. 
4  on  high.— P. 


THE    GRENE    KNIGHT. 


75 


448   he  looked  after  the  greene  chappell, 
he  saw  itt  stand  vnder  a  hill 
couered  with  euyes  l  about ; 

he  looked  after  the  greene  Knight, 
452    he  hard  him  wehett  a  fauchion  bright, 

that  the  hills  rang  about, 
the  Knight  spake  with  strong  cheere, 
said,  "  yee  be  welcome,  S[ir]  Gawaine  he  ere, 
456         it  behooveth  thee  to  Lowte."  2 
he  stroke,  &  litle  perced  the  skin, 
vnneth  the  flesh  within. 

then  Sir  Gawaine  had  noe  doubt ; 

460   he  saith,  "thou  shontest3  !  why  dost  thou  soe  ?  " 
then  Sir  Gawaine  in  hart  waxed  throe  4  ; 

vpon  his  fieete  can  stand, 
&  soone  he  drew  out  his  sword, 
464   &  saith,  "  traitor  !  if  thou  speake  a  word, 

thy  lifie  is  in  my  hand  5  ; 
I  had  but  one  stroke  att  thee, 
&  thou  hast  had  another  att  mee, 
468       noe  falshood  in  me  thou  found  !  " 

the  Knight  said  withouten  laine,  vf  kV3 
"  I  wend  I  had  Sir  Gawaine  slaine, 

the  gentlest  Knight  in  this  land  6  ; 
472   men  told  me  of  great  renowne, 

of  curtesie  thou  might  haue  woon  the  crowne 

aboue  both  free  &  bound,7 


and  sees  the 

Green 

Chapel, 


and  the 
Green 
Knight ; 


who  calls 
him  to  lay 
down  his 
head, 


then  strikes, 

but  hardly 
cuts  through 
the  flesh. 


He  re 
proaches 
Gawaine  for 
shrinking. 


Gawaine 

threateTis 
to  kill  him. 


Bredbeddle 
answers  that 
Gawaine 


1  I  suppose  Ivyes  or  perhaps  Eugltes, 
i.e.  yews. — P. 

2  some  great  omission.  Note  in  MS.  Sir 
Gawayne  and  the  Green  Knight  makes 
Gawaine   answer  that  he  is  ready  and 
will  not  shrink.     "  Thon  the  grim  man 
seizes  his  grim  tool,"  strikes,  and  as  it 
comes  gliding  down,  Gawaine  shrinks  a 
little.     Bredbeddle  (that  is,  Bernlak  de 
Hautdesert)    reproaches    him    for    his 


cowardice.  Gawaine  promises  not  to 
shrink  again,  stands  firm,  and  Bred 
beddle  strikes,  (ed.  Morris,  E.  E.  Text 
Soc.  p.  72-4.)— F. 

3  shuntest,  flinchest,  shrinkest. — F. 

4  forte  idem  ac  Thra,  apud  G.  Doug* 
ferox,  acer,  audax,  vel  potius  pertinax. 
Vide  Lye.— P. 

5  hond.— P. 

6  Londe.— P.  7  bond.— P. 


76 


THE   GRENE   KNIGHT. 


has  lost  his 
three  chief 
virtues,  of 
truth,  gen 
tleness,  and 
courtesy. 

He  has 
concealed 
the  lace, 


and  should 
have  shared 
it. 


"  &  alsoe  of  great  gentry  e ; 

476    &  now  3  points  l  be  put  fro  thee, 

it  is  the  Moe  pittye  : 
Sir  Gawaine  !  thou  wast  not  Leele  2 
when  thon  didst  the  lace  conceale 

480       that  my  wiffe  gaue  to  thee  ! 

"  ffor  wee  were  both,  thou  wist  full  well, 
for  thou  hadst  the  halfe  dale  3 

of  my  venerye  4 ; 
484   if  the  lace  had  neuer  beene  wrought, 

to  haue  slaine  thee  was  neuer  my  thought, 
I  swere  by  god  verelye  ! 


Yet  Bred- 
beddle  will 


forgive  him 
if  he'll  take 
him  to 
Arthur's 
court. 


Gawaine 
agrees. 
They  go 
back  to 
Hutton 
Castle, 
and  next 
day  on  to 
Arthur's 
court. 


All  rejoice 
at  Gawaine's 
return. 


"  I  wist  it  well  my  wiffe  loued  thee  ; 

488   thou  wold  doe  me  noe  villanye, 

but  nicked  her  with  nay ; 
but  wilt  thou  doe  as  I  bidd  thee, 
take  me  to  Arthurs  court  with  thee, 

492       then  were  all  to  my  pay.5  " 

now  are  the  Knights  accorded  thore  6  ; 
to  the  castle  of  hutton  7  can  the  fare, 

to  lodge  there  all  that  night. 
496   early e  on  the  other  day 

to  Arthurs  court  the  tooke  the  way 
with  harts  blyth  &  light. 

all  the  Court  was  full  faine, 
500   aliue  when  they  saw  Si?  Gawaine ; 
they  thanked  god  abone.8 


1  perhaps  these  points,  q.  d.  thou  hast 
forfeited  these  qualities. — P. 

i.  e.  loyal,  honourable,  true. — P. 

A.-S.  dal,  part.— F. 

venison,  or  rather  hunting.  So  in 
Chauc1:.  Fr.  Venerie.  Urry.— P. 

content,  liking. — P. 

there.— P. 


7  Hutton     Manor-house,     [Somerset 
shire]  :  the  hall,  36  feet  by  20,  is  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  with  arched  roof  and 
panelled  chimney-piece.   Domestic  Archi 
tecture,  iii.  342.     The  scene  is  laid  "  in 
the  west  countrye,"  see  1.  39,  1.515. — F. 

8  ?  MS.  aboue. — F.    aboone,  abone, 
idem. — P. 


THE    GRENE    KNIGHT. 


77 


thai  is  the  matter  &  the  case 
why  Knights  of  the  bathe  weare  the  lace 
504        vntill  they  haue  wonen  their  shoen,1 

or  else  a  ladye  of  hye  estate 
from  about  his  necke  shall  it  take, 

for  the  doughtye  deeds  that  hee  hath  done. 
508   it  was  confirmed  by  Arthur  the  K[ing  ;] 
thorrow  Sir  Grawaines  desiringe 
The  King  granted  him  his  boone. 

Thus  endeth  the  tale  of  the  greene  Knight,    [page  210] 

512    god,  that  is  soe  full  of  might, 

to  heauen  their  soules  bring 
that  haue  hard  this  litle  storye 
that  fell  some  times  in  the  west  countrye 

516        in  Arthurs  days  our  King  !  ffins. 


This  is  why 
knights  of 
the  Bath 
wear  the 
lace  till 
they've  won 
their  spurs, 
or  a  lady 
takes  the 
lace  off. 


God  bring 
all  my 
hearers  to 
heaven ! 
This  little 
story  befell 
in  the  West 
Country. 


1  See  p.  123, 1.  1232.— F. 


[It  may  be  noted,  that  as  the  story  is 
told  here,  the  point  of  it  is  missed.  As 
the  agreement  of  Bredbeddle  and  Gawaine 
is  here  only  to  share  with  the  other  what 
each  gets,  p.  71,  1.  356,  not  to  change,  it, 
as  in  the  old  romance.  Bredbeddle 
gives  Gawaine  only  half  his  venison,  p.  76, 
1.  482,  and  Gawaine  gives  Bredbeddle 


half  his  gettings,  three  kisses,  out  of 
three  kisses  and  a  lace.  As  he  couldn't 
cut  three  kisses  in  half,  to  go  with  the 
half  of  the  lace,  he  divided  the  gift  fairly 
in  another  way, — the  three  kisses  to 
Bredbeddle,  the  lace  to  himself.  Eather 
hard  measure  to  lose  one's  "3  points" 
for  that. — F.] 


78 


Jbt'r:  Crfammt*:1 

THE  earliest  known  existing  copy  of  this  Romance  is  preserved 
at  Cambridge.  It  is  of  the  time  of  Henry  VI.,  according  to 
Mr.  Halliwell,  who  has  edited  it  for  the  Percy  Society.  There 
is,  too,  an  old  MS.  copy  preserved  in  the  Bodleian  Library. 
The  Romance  once  enjoyed  a  wide  popularity.  It  was  twice 
printed  by  William  Copland.  From  one  of  these  editions  Mr. 
Ellis  draws  the  outline  he  gives  in  his  Early  English  Metrical 
Romances.  One  of  the  old  printed  versions  was  reprinted  by 
Mr.  Utterson  in  1817.  The  copy  here  given  differs  but  slightly 
from  Copland's  and  from  the  Cambridge  version.  The  more 
important  of  what  differences  there  are,  are  mentioned  in  the 
notes. 

The  piece  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  old  Romances,  with  all 
their  vices  and  their  virtues ;  with  their  prolixity,  their  impro 
bability,  their  exaggeration;  with  their  wild  graces  also,  their 
chivalrousness,  their  pageantry. 

The  story  tells  how  a  good  lord  and  his  gentle  lady  were 
estranged  by  the  treachery  of  their  steward ;  how  their  son,  con 
ceived  in  honour,  was  born  in  shame ;  how,  after  many  a  weary 
year,  the  execrable  fraud  was  discovered  ;  and  how,  at  last,  the  son 
(who  has  in  the  meantime  won  himself  a  wife-)  and  his  mother 
are  happily  reunited  to  the  grieving  husband.  These  various 
incidents  are  described  with  much  power  and  feeling. 

King  Arradas  was  blessed  with  a  wife,  Margaret,  "  comely  to  be 
seen,  and  true  as  the  turtle-doves  on  trees."  As  their  union  was 
not  followed  by  the  birth  of  any  child,  the  King  determines  to 

1  271  Stanzas.— P. 


SIR    TRIAMORE.  79 

go  and  fight  in  the  Holy  Land,  so  to  propitiate  Heaven  and  per 
suade  it  to  grant  him  an  heir.  On  the  very  eve  of  his  departure 
his  desire  is  granted.  But  he  sets  forth  to  the  wars  not  knowing. 
During  his  absence  his  steward  Marrock  evilly  solicits  the 
Queen.  "But  she  was  steadfast  in  her  thought."  When  the 
King  returned  from  heathenness,  and 

at  last  his  Queen  beheld, 
And  saw  her  go  great  with  child, 

He  wondered  at  that  thing. 
Many  a  time  he  did  her  kiss, 
And  made  great  joy  without  miss, 

His  heart  made  great  rejoicing. 

The  wicked  steward  avails  himself  of  the  King's  wonder  to 
insinuate,  and  more  than  insinuate,  that  the  child  is  none  of  his. 
The  King  unhappily  listens.  The  Queen  is  presently,  at  the 
steward's  advice,  banished  the  country. 

So  now  is  exiled  that  good  Queen, 
But  she  wist  not  what  it  did  mean, 

Nor  what  made  him  to  begin. 
To  speak  to  her  he  nay  would ; 
That  made  the  Queen's  heart  full  cold, 

And  that  was  great  pity  and  sin. 
*  *  *  *  * 

For  oft  she  mourned  as  he  did  fare, 

And  cried  and  sighed  full  sore. 

Lords,  knights,  and  ladies  gent 
Mourned  for  her  when  she  went, 
And  bewailed  her  that  season. 

In  this  way  came  to  pass  the  sad  schism  that  was  to  bring  so 
many  years  of  forlornness  and  anguish,  the  source  of  so  many 
bitter  tears  and  poignant  self-reproaches.  The  child  whom  the 
dishonoured  lady  then  bore  in  her  womb  was  to  be  a  full-grown 
man,  and  a  warrior  even  more  formidable  than  his  father  himself, 
ere  Arradas  and  Margaret  kissed  conjugally  again.  Who  does 
not  rejoice  when  the  fair  fame  of  this  true  wife  is  vindicated,  the 
iniquity  of  her  tempter  made  bare?  When  at  last,  at  the 
marriage  of  their  son,  Sir  Triamour,  to  the  beautiful  Helen  of 
Hungary,  she  and  her  husband  are  again  brought  face  to  face : 


80  Sill   TRIAMORE. 

King  Arradas  beheld  his  Queen ; 
Him  thought  that  he  had  her  seen, 

She  was  a  lady  faire. 
The  King  said,  "  If  it  is  your  wish, 
Your  name  me  for  to  tell, 

I  pray  you  with  words  fair." 

"  My  lord,"  said  she,  "  I  was  your  Queen ; 
Your  steward  did  me  ill  teen. 

That  evil  might  him  befall !  " 
The  King  spake  no  more  words 
Till  the  cloths  were  drawn  from  the  boards, 

And  men  rose  in  hall, 
And  by  the  hand  he  took  the  Queen, 
So  in  the  chamber  forth  he  went, 

And  there  she  told  him  all. 

Then  was  there  great  joy  and  bliss 
"When  they  together  gan  kiss  ; 

Then  all  the  company  made  joy  enough. 

But  we  do  not  propose  here  to  gather  the  wild  flowers  of  this 
poem  for  our  readers.  They  shall  wander  through  the  meadows 
and  cull  for  themselves.  They  will  easily  find  them  blowing 
and  blooming,  if  they  have  any  care  for  the  blossoms  of  Romance. 


LOW  l  lesus  christ,  o  2  heauen  King  ! 
grant  you  all  his  deare  blessing, 

&  his  heauen  for  to  win  ! 

i/stenU  U  4      ^  Jon  w^  a  stond  3  lay  to  jour  eare, 

a  tai?  J°U  of  adventures  you  shall  heare 

thai  wilbe  to  jour  liking, 

of  King  of  a  "King  &  of  a  queene 

8      thai  had  great  loy  them  betweene  ; 

SIT  Arradas  4  was  his  name  ; 
and  Queen  ^e  ^ad  a  <}ueene  named  Margarett, 

Margaret,  shee  wag  ag  ^rae  ag  steele)  &  Sweet, 

12          &  full  false  brought  in  fame  5 


1  NOW.  —  Cop.   (or  Copland's  edition.           *  Ardus.  —  Ca.    (or    Cambridge    text, 
Collated  by  Mr.  Hales.)  ed.  Halliwell.—  F.) 

2  our-  —  Cop.  5  evil  report,  disrepute  ;  L.  fama  (in 
s  stounde.  —  Cop.  a  bad  sense),  ill-repute,  infamy,  scandal  ; 


10 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 

by  the  Kings  steward  that  Marrocke  hight, 
a  traitor  &  a  false  knight : 

herafter  yee  will  say  all  the  same, 
hee  looued  well  that  Ladye  gent ; 
&  for  shee  wold  not  w^th  him  consent, 

he  did  that  good  Queene  much  shame. 


81 

Sir  Marrock 


because  she 
would  not 
yield  to  him. 


this  King  loued  well  his  Queene 
20      because  shee  was  comlye  l  to  be  seene, 

&  as  true  as  the  turtle  on  tree, 
either  to  other  made  great  Moane, 
for  children  together  had  they  none 
24          begotten  on  their  bodye  ; 


Arradas  and 
Margaret 


lament 
that  they 
are  childless, 


28 


therfore  the  King,  I  vnderstand, 
made  a  vow  to  goe  to  the  holy  land, 

there  for  to  fight  &  for  to  slay  2  ; 
&  praid  god  that  he  wold  send  him  tho 
grace  to  gett  a  child  be-tweene  them  tow, 

that  the  right  heire  might  bee. 


and  Arradas 

vows  to  go 
to  the  Holy 
Land, 

praying  God 
to  send  him 
an  heir. 


for  his  vow  he  did  there  make, 
32      &  of  the  pope  the  Crosse  he  did  take, 

for  to  seek  the  land  were  god  him  bought, 
the  night  of  his  departing,  on  the  Ladye  Mild, 
as  god  it  wold,  hee  gott  3  a  child  ; 
36          but  they  both  wist  itt  naught. 


He  begets  a 
child  on  his 
wife, 


&  on  the  morrow  when  it  was  day 
the  King  hyed  on  his  Journey ; 
for  to  tarry,  he  it  not  thought. 


and  next 
''Say  starts 
on  his 
journey. 


famosits,  infamous.     (White.)    Compare 
For  yf  it  may  be  founde  in  thee 
That  thou  them  fame  for  enmyte, 
Thou  shalt  be  taken  as  a  felon, 
And  put  full  depe  in  my  pryson. 

VOL.  II. 


The    Squyr  of  Lowe  Dcgre.   1.   392 
(Ritsoniii.  161,  Hall!).— F. 

1  semely. — Cop. 

2  sle.— Cop. 

3  gate. — Cop. 


82 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


Queen 
Margaret 
mourns ; 


their  parting 
is  sad. 


40      then  the  Queene  began  to  mourne 

because  her  Tjord  wold  noe  longer  soiourne  ; 
shee  sighed  full  sore,  &  sobbed  oft. 

the  ~King  &  his  men  armed  them  right, 
44      both  Lords,  Barrens,  &  many  a  knight, 
With  him  for  to  goe. 

then  betweene  her  &  the  King 

was  much  sorrow  &  mourninge 
48          when  the  shold  depart  in  too. 


Arradas 
charges 
Marrock  to 
take  care  of 
his  Queen, 


52 


he  kissed  &  tooke  his  leaue  of  the  Queene, 
&  other  Ladies  bright  &  sheene, 

&  of  Marrocke  his  steward  alsoe  ; 
the  King  commanded  him  on  paine  of  his  life 
for  to  keepe  well  his  queene  &  wifie 

both  in  weale  &  woe. 


and  goes  to 
the  Holy 
Land.    " 


Marrock 


wooes  the 
Queen, 


and  seeks  to 
lie  with  her. 


Margaret  is 
true, 


now  is  the  "King  forth  gone 

56     to  the  place  where  god  was  on  the  crosse  done, 
&  warreth  there  a  while. 

then  bethought  this  false  steward — 

as  yee  shall  here  after  [ward,1] — 
60         his  lord  &  K.ing  to  beguile  ; 

he  wooed  2  the  Queene  day  &  night 
for  to  lye  w^th  her,  &  he  might  ; 

he  dread  no  creature  thoe. 

64      ffull  fayre  hee  did  thai  Lady  speake,  [page  211] 

thai  he  might  in  bed  w^'th  thai  Ladye  sleepe  ; 

thus  full  oft  he  prayed  her  thoe. 

but  shee  was  stedfast  in  her  thought, 
68      &  heard  them  speake,  &  said  nought 
till  hee  all  his  case  3  had  told. 


MS.  hereafter.     P.  has  added  ward.— F.          2  wowed.— Cop.          8  tale.— Cop. 


SIR    TBIAMORE. 


83 


then  shee  said,  "  Marrocke,  hast  thou  not  thought 
all  thai  thou  speakeest  is  ffor  nought  ? 
72          I  trow  not  that  thou  wold 1  ; 


and  re 
proaches 
Marrock. 


76 


"  for  well  my  Lord  did  trust  thee, 
when  hee  to  you  deliuered  mee 

to  haue  me  vnder  the 2  hold ; 
&  [thou]  woldest  full  faine 
to  doe  thy  Lord  shame  ! 

traitor,  thou  art  to  bold  !  " 


Her  lord 
trusted  him, 


and  he 

betrays  his 
trust. 


then  said  Marrocke  vnto  that  Ladye, 
80     "  my  Lord  is  gone  now  verelye 

against  gods  foes  to  flight ; 
&,  without  the  more  wonder  bee, 
hee  shall  come  noe  more  att  thee, 
84         as  I  am  a  true  knight. 


Marrock 


tells  the 
Queen 


that  Arradas 
is  sure  never 
to  return ; 


88 


**  &  Madam,  wee  will  worke  soe  priuilye, 
that  wethere  3  he  doe  Hue  or  dye, 

for  of  this  shall 4  witt  noe  wight.5  " 
then  waxed  the  Queene  wonderous  [wroth,6] 
&  swore  many  a  great  othe 

as  shee  was  a  true  woman, 


and  promises 
to  keep  their 
sin  secret. 


Margaret 
angrily 


shee  said,  "  traitor  !  if  euer  thou  be  soe  hardiye 
92     to  show  me  of  such  villanye, 

on  a  gallow  tree  I  will  thee  hange  ! 

if  I  may  know  after  this 

that  thou  tice  me,  I-wis  7 
96          thou  shalt  haue  the  law  of  the  land." 


threatens  to 

hang 

Marrock, 


if  he  says 
another 
word  to  her. 


1  I  didn't  think  you  were  capable  of 
this. — F. 

2  they. — Cop. 

8  After  the  first  e  an  h  is  marked  out. 
— F. 


4  there  shall. — Ca. 

5  man. — P. 

6  Added  by  Percy.— F. 

7  tyce  me  to  do  a  mysse. — Cop. 


G  2 


84 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


Marrock 
assures  her 
he  meant 
her  no 
wrong, 

but  only  to 
try  her 
truth. 


100 


Sir  Marroccke  said,  "Ladye,  mercy  e  ! 
I  said  itt  for  noe  villaine, 

by  lesu,  heauen  Kinge  ! 
but  only  for  to  prone  yo^r  will, 
whether  thai  you  were  good  or  ill, 

&  for  noe  other  thinge  ; 


Now  he 
knows  she  is 
true, 


she  must  not 
be  vexed. 


"  but  now,  Madam,  I  may  well  see 
104   you  are  as  true  as  turtle  on  the  tree  * 
vnto  my  Lord  the  King ; 

&  itt  is  to  me  both  glad  &  leefe ; 

therfore  take  it  not  into  greefe 
108        for  noe  manner  of  thinge." 


Margaret 
believes  him. 


But 
Marrock, 


disgusted, 


&  soe  the  traitor  excused  him  thoe, 
the  Lady  wend  itt  had  beene  soe 

as  the  steward  had  said. 
112    he  went  forth,  &  held  him  still, 

&  thought  he  cold  not  haue  his  will  ; 

therfore  hee  was  euill  apayd. 


schemes  how 
to  betray 
her, 

and  does  it. 


2  soe  with  treason  &  trecherye 
116    he  thought  to  doe  her  villanye  ; 

thus  to  himselfe  he  said. 
night  &  day  hee  laboured  then 
for  to  betray  3  thai  good  woman  ; 
120        soe  att  the  last  he  her  betraid. 


Arradas 


now  of  this  good  Queene  leaue  wee, 
&  by  the  grace  of  the  holy  trinitye 

full  great  w^'th  child  did  shee  gone. 
124   now  of  'King  Arradas  speake  wee, 
thai  soe  farr  in  heathinnesse  is  hee 

to  fight  against  gods  fone  4  ; 


1  as  stele  on  tree. — Ca. 

2  This  stanza  is  not  in  Ca.— F. 


3  deceyue. — Cop. 

4  fonne. — Cop. 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


85 


there  with  his  army  &  all  his  might 
128    slew  many  a  sarrazen  l  in  fight, 
great  words  of  them  there  rose 

in  the  heathen  Land,  &  alsoe  in  Pagaine  2  ; 

&  in  euerye  other  Land  that  they  come  bye, 
132        there  sprang  of  him  great  losse.3 


and  his  men 

slay 

Saracens 

and  grow 
famous. 


136 


when  [he  4]  had  done  his  pilgrimage, 
&  labored  all  that  great  voyage  5 

w^th  all  his  good  will  &  lybertye, — 
att  mome  lorden  &  att  Bethlem,6 
&  att  Caluarye  beside  Jerusalem, 

in  all  the  places  was  hee  ; — 


[page  212] 


After 
visiting 


Jordan  and 
Calvary, 


then  he  longed  to  come  home 
140    to  see  his  Ladye  that  lined  at  one  ; 
he  thought  euer  on  her  greatlye. 
soe  long  the  sealed  on  the  fome 
till  att  the  last  they  came  home  ; 
144        he  arriued  oner  the  Last7  strond. 


he  longs  for 
home, 


and  sets  sail. 


the  shippes  did  strike  their  sayles  eche  one, 
the  men  were  glad  the  ~K:ing  came  home 

vnto  his  owne  Land. 
148    there  was  both  mirth  &  game, 

the  Queene  of  his  cominge  was  glad  &  faine, 

Eche  of  them  told  other  tydand.8 


Arradaa 
reaches 
home, 


meets 
Margaret, 


the  ~K.ing  at  last  his  Queene  beheld, 
152    &  saw  heer  goe  great  with  childe  : 

[&  9]  hee  wondred  att  that  thinge. 


1  sarzyn. — Cop. 

2  Pagany. — Cop. 

8  Loos  or  fame,  Fama.  Promptorium. 
-F. 
4  he.— Ca. 


and  finds 
her  great 
with  child, 

to  his 
wonder. 


vayge. — Cop. 
Bedleem. — Cop. 
salte. — Cop. 
tydynge. — Cop. 
A  hole  in  the  MS.— F. 


86 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


Marrock 
tells  him 


that  the 
child  is 


certainly 
not  his.    His 
Queen  has 
been  false ; 
another 
knight  begot 
the  child. 


"What? 
When  I  put 
her  in  your 
charge  ?  " 


Marrock 

excuses 

himself, 


but  declares 
he  saw  a 
knight  lie 
with  her, 


for  which  he 
killed  him, 


many  a  time  he  did  her  kisse, 
&  made  great  ioy  without  misse  ; 
156         his  hart1  made  great  reioceinge. 

soone  after  the  King  hard  tydinges  newe 
by  Marroccke  :   that  false  knight  vntrue 

with  reason  his  lord  gan  fraine, 
160    "my  lord,"  he  sayd,  "  for  gods  2  byne  3  ! 
for  of  that  childe  that  neuer  was  thine,4 

why  art  thow  soe  fayne  ? 

"  you  wend  that  itt  jour  owne  bee ; 
164    but,"  he  said,  "  Sir,  ffor  certaintye 
JOUT  Queene  hath  you  betraine  ; 

another  Knight,  soe  god  me  speed, 

begott  this  child  sith  you  yeed, 
168         &  hath  thy  Queene  forlaine." 

"  Alas  !  "  said  the  King,  "  how  may  this  bee  ? 
for  I  betooke  her  vnto  thee, 

her  to  keepe  in  waile  &  woe  5  ; 

172    &  vnder  thy  keeping  how  fortuned  this 

that  thou  suffered  her  doe  amisse  ? 

alas,  Marroccke  !  why  did  thou  soe  ?  " 
"  Sir,"  said  the  steward,  "  blame  not  me  ; 
176    for  much  mone  shee  made  for  thee, 

as  though  shee  had  loued  noe  more  ; 

"  I  trowed  on  her  noe  villanye 
till  I  saw  one  lye  her  by, 
180         as  the  Mele  6  had  wrought, 
to  him  I  came  with  Egar  mood, 
&  slew  the  traitor  as  he  stood  ; 
full  sore  itt  [me]  forethought. 


1  First  written  halt.—F. 

2  Goddes.— Cop. 

3  Goddys  pyne. — Ca. 

4  MS.  thine  was.— F. 


6  weal  &  woe. — P. 

6  ?  Fr.  mat,  evil ;  or  meslee,  a  mixture, 
mingling,  melling.     Cotgrave. — F. 


SIR   TKIAMORE. 


87 


184     "  then  shee  trowed  sliee  shold  be  shent, 
&  promised  me  both  Land  &  rent ; 

soe  fayre  shee  me  besought, 
to  doe  with  her  all  my  will 
188     if  that  I  wold  [keepe]  me  still, 
&  tell  you.  naught." 


and  the 
Queen  pro 
mised  him 


herself  for 
his  silence. 


"  of  this,"  said  the  Kmgr,  "  I  haue  great  wonder ; 
for  sorrow  my  hart  will  breake  assunder  l ! 
192         why  hath  shee  done  amisse  ? 
alas  !  to  whome  shall  I  me  mone, 
sith  I  haue  lost  my  comlye  Queene 
that  I  was  wont  to  kisse  ?  " 


Arradas 
sorrows. 


He  has  lost 
his  Queen 


196     the  ~K:ing  said,  "  Marroccke,  what  is  thy  read  ? 
it  is  best  to  turne  to  dead  2 

my  ladye  that  hath  done  me  this  2  ; 
now  because  that  shee  is  false  to  mee, 
200     I  will  neuer  more  her  see, 

nor  deale  with  her,  I-wisse.3" 


What  can  he 
do  ?    He'll 
kill  her. 


the  steward  said,  "  'Lord,  doe  not  soe  ; 
thou  shalt  neither  burne  ne  sloe,4 
204         but  doe  as  I  you  shall  you  tell." 
Marroccke  sayd,  "  this  councell  I : 
banish  her  out  of  yo^r  Land  priuilye, 
far  into  exile. 


Marrock 
advises 


him  to 
banish  her. 


208     "  deliuer  her  an  ambling  5  steede, 
&  an  old  Knight  to  her  lead  ; 
thus  by  my  councell  see  6  yee  doe ; 


[page  213]    givehera 
horse 


1  asonder. — Cop. 

9  ?  turne  is  for  burne,  cp.  1.  203. — F. 

brenne  her  to  ded. — Cop. 

Whether  that  sche  be  done  to  dedd 
That  was  my  blysse  ?— Ca. 


3  ywyg- — Cop. 

4  flo.— Cop. 

5  ambelynge. — Cop.     oolde. — Ca. 

6  loke. — Cop. 


88 


SIR   TRIAMOEE. 


and  money, 

and  let  her 
go. 


&  giue  them  some  spending  money 
212    that  may  them  out  of  the  land  bring ; 
I  wold  noe  better  then  soe. 


Arradas 


"  &  an  other  mans  child  shalbe  you  heyre, 
itt  were  neither  good  nor  fayre 
216        but  if  itt  were  of  yo^r  kin." 

then  said  the  ~K.ing,  "  soe  mote  I  thee, 
right  as  thou  sayest,  soe  shall  it  bee, 
&  erst  will  I  neuer  blin.1" 


Queen 
Margaret  is 
to  be  exiled 


the  King 
will  not 
speak  to  her. 


220    Loe,  now  is  exiled  that  good  Queene  ; 
but  shee  wist  not  what  it  did  meane, 

nor  what  made  him  to  begin, 
to  speake  to  her  he  nay  wold  ; 
224    that  made  the  Queenes  hart  full  cold, 
&  that  was  great  pittye  &  sin. 


He  gives  her 
an  old  bteed, 


an  old 
knight, 
Sir  Roger, 
to  look  after 
her, 


he  did  her  cloth  in  purple  2  weede, 
&  set  her  on  an  old  steed 

228        that  was  both  crooked  &  almost  blinde ; 
he  tooke  her  an  old  Knight, 
kine  to  the  Queene,  Sir  Rodger  3  hight, 
that  was  both  curteous  4  &  kind. 


and  three 
days  to  quit 
the  land  in, 


(or  the 
Queen  will 
be  burnt,) 


232    3  dayes  he  gaue  them  leaue  5  to  passe, 
&  after  that  day  sett  was, 
if  men  might  them  find, 
the  Queene  shold  burned  6  be  starke  dead 
236    in  a  flyer  with  flames  redd  : 

this  came  of  the  stewards  7  mind.8       •  . 


1  blyne. — Cop. 

2  He  let  clothe  hur  in  sympulle. — Ca. 

3  Eoger.—  Cop. 

4  curteyse. — Cop. 


8  And  gaf  them  twenty  dayes.—  Ca. 

6  brenned. — Cop. 

7  stuardes. — Cop. 

8  mimd,  in  the  MS.— F. 


SIR   TRIAMOBE. 


89 


40*f  florences  for  their  expence l 
the  JLing  did  giue  them  iu  his  presence, 
240        &  comaraided  them  to  goe. 

the  Ladye  mourned  as  shee  shold  dye  ; 
for  all  this  shee  wist  not  whye 
hee  fared  with  her  soe. 

244    that  good  "Knight  comforted  the  Queene, 
&  said,  "  att  gods  will  all  must  beene  ; 

therfore,  Madam,  mourne  you  noe  more." 
Sir  Rodger  for  her  hath  much  care, 
248    [For  ofte  she  mourned  as  she  dyd  fare,2] 
&  cryed  &  sighed  full  sore ; 

Lords,  Knights,  &  ladyes  gent 
mourned  for  her  when  shee  went, 
252        &  be-wayled  3  her  that  season. 

the  Queene  began  to  make  sorrow  &  care 
when  shee  from  the  "King  shold  fare 

with  wrong,  against  all  reason. 
256    forth  they  went,  in  number4  3, 

Sir  Rodger,  the  Queene,  &  his  greyhound  trulye  ; 
ah  !  o  5  worth  wicked  treason  ! 


also  forty 
florins. 


Queen 

Margaret 

mourns. 


Sir  Roger 
comforts  her. 


but  she 
wails  still, 


and  they  set 
off. 


then  thought  the  steward  trulye 
260    to  doe  the  Queene  a  villanye, 
&  to  worke  with  her  his  will. 

he  ordained  him  a  company e 

of  his  owne  men  priuilye 
264        that  wold  assent  him  till  ; 

all  vnder  a  Wood  6  side  they  did  lye 
wheras  the  Queene  shold  passe  by, 
&  held  them  wonderous  still ; 


Marrock 


gets  his  men 
together, 


and  lies  in 
ambush  for 
the  Queen, 


1  Thretty  florens  to  there  spendynge. 
-Ca. 

2  This  line  is  from  Copland's  text.— H. 
8  MS.  he  wayled.— F. 


4  nunnber,  in  the  MS. — F. 

5  wo. — Cop. 

6  wodes. — Cop.     The  W  is  made  like 
vv  in  the  MS.— F. 


90 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


to  work  his 
lust  on  her. 


268    &  there  he  thought  verelye 
his  good  Queene  for  to  lye  by, 
his  lusts1  for  to  fulfill. 


The  Queen 
and  Sir 
Koger 


perceive 
Marrock's 


treason. 


Sir  Roger 
prepares 


for  defence. 


Marrock 
threatens  to 
kill  him. 


Sir  Roger 
denes  him, 


attacks  his 

men 


&  when  hee  came  into  the  wood, 
272    Sir  Rodger  &  the  Queene  soe  good, 

&  there  2  to  passe  with-out  doubt ; 
with  thai  they  were  ware  of  the  steward, 
how  hee  was  coming  to  them  ward 
276        with  a  ffull  great  rout. 

"heere  is  treason  !  "  then  said  the  Queene. 
"  alas !  "  said  Roger,  "  what  may  this  meane  ? 

with  foes  wee  be  sett  round  about." 
280    the  "Knight  sayd,  "  heere  will  wee  dwell ; 
Our  liffe  wee  shall  full  deere  sell, 
be  they  neuer  soe  stout. 

"  Madam,"  he  sayd,  "  be  not  affrayd, 
284    for  I  thinke  heere  with  this  sword 
that  I  shall  make  them  lowte." 
then  cryed  the  steward  to  Sir  Rodger  on  hye, 
&  said,  "  LorcZ,3  traitor  !  thou  shalt  dye  ! 
288        for  that  I  goe  about." 

Sir  Rodger  said,  "  not  for  thee  ! 
my  death  shalt  thou  deare  abye; 

for  with  thee  will  I  fight." 
292    he  went  to  him  shortlye, 

&  old  Sir  Rodger  bare  him  manfullye  4 

like  a  full  hardye  Knight ; 

he  hewed  on  them  boldlye  ; 
296    there  was  none  of  that  company e 
soe  hardye  nor  sow  5  wight. 


[page  214] 


1  lustes. — Cop. 

2  ?  construction.     Is  there  mis  written 
for  thought,  or  is  thought  understood,  or 


is  thereto  one  word  ? — H. 

3  olde. — Cop.  4  manly. — Cop. 

6  so. — Cop. 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


91 


S^r  Rodger  hitt l  one  on  the  head 

that  to  the  girdle  the  sword  yeed, 

300        then  was  hee  of  them  quitte 2 ; 


splits  one  to 
the  girdle, 


he  smote  a  stroke  w^th  a  sword  3  good 
that  all  about  them  ran  the  blood, 

soe  sore  he  did  them  smite  ; 

304    trulye-hee,4  his  greyhound  that  was  soo  5  good, 
did  helpe  his  master,  &  by  him  stood, 

&  bitterlye  can  hee  byte. 


wounds 
others, 


and  his 
greyhound, 
Trulyhee, 
helps. 


then  that  Lady,  that  fayre  foode,6 
308    she  feared  Marrocke  in  her  mood  ; 

shee  light  on  foote,  &  left  her  steede, 
&  ran  fast,  &  wold  not  leaue, 
&  hid  her  vnder  a  greene  greaue,7 
312        for  shee  was  in  great  dread. 


Queen 
Margaret 


dismounts, 
runs  away, 


and  hide 
herself. 


316 


Sir  Rodger  then  the  Queene  can  behold, 
&  of  his  liffe  he  did  nothing  hold  ; 

his  good  grayhound  did  help  him  indeed, 
&,  as  itt  is  in  the  romans  8  told, 
14  he  slew  of  yeomen  9  bold ; 10 

soe  he  quitted  him  in  that  steade. 


Sir  Roger 


kills  fourteen 
yeomen, 


if  hee  had  beene  armed,  I-wisse  1 1 
320    all  the  Masterye  had  been  his  ; 

alas  hee  lacked  weed. 
as  good  S^r  Rodger  gaue  a  stroake, 
behind  him  came  Sir  Marroccke, — 
324        that  euill  might  he  speed, — 


but  Marrock 


hyt. — Cop. 
quyte. — Cop. 
swerde. — Cop. 
Trewe-loue. — Ca. 

de  at  the  end  has  been  marked  out 
of  the  MS.— F. 

6  fode. — Cop.    person. — F. 


7  greve. — Cop.     grove.— F. 

8  Romaynes. — Cop. 

9  yemen. — Cop. 

10  xl*.1    Syr  Roger  downe  can  folde. — 
Ca. 

11  ywis. — Cop. 


SIR   TRTAMORE. 


stabs  him  in 
the  back 


and  kills 
him. 


Marrock 


searches 
everywhere 
for  the 
Queen, 


he  smote  S^r  Rodger  with  a  speare, 
&  to  the  ground  he  did  him  beare, 

&  fast  that  ~Knight  did  bleed. 
328    Sir  Marroccke  gaue  him  such  a  wound 
that  he  dyed  there  on  ground, 
&  that  was  a  sinfull  deede. 

now  is  Rodger  slaine  certainlye. 

332    he  rode  forth  &  let  him  Lye, 
&  sought  after  the  Queene. 
fast  hee  rode,  &  sought  euerye  way, 
yet  wist  he  not  where  the  Queene  Laye. 

336        then  said  the  traitor  teene  ; 1 


but  cannot 
find  her :  he 


gets  wroth, 


ouer  all  the  wood  hee  her  sought ; 
but  as  god  wold,  he  found  her  nought. 

then  waxed  he  wrath,  I  weene, 
340    &  held  his  Journey  euill  besett, 

that  with  the  Queene  had  not  mett 

to  haue  had  his  pleasure,  the  traitor  keene. 


and  goes 
home, 


stabbing  Sir 
Roger's 
corpse  on 
the  way, 


&  when  he  cold  not  the  lady  finde, 
344    homeward  they  began  to  wend, 

hard  by  where  Sir  Rodger  Lay. 
the  steward 2  him  thrust  throughout, 
for  of  his  death  he  had  noe  doubt, 
348        &  this  the  storye  doth  say. 


and  having 
lost  fourteen 
men. 


&  when  the  traitor  had  done  soe, 
he  let  him  lye  .&  went  him  froe, 

&  tooke  noe  thought  that  day  ; 
352    yett  all  his  companye  was  nye  gone, 
14  he  left  there  dead  for  one  ; 

there  passed  but  4  away.3 


1  If  a  stanza  is  not  omitted,  said  must 
mean  assayed,  tried. — F. 

2  stuarde. — Cop. 


3  xl.  he  had  chaunged  for  oone. 
Ther  skaped  but  two  away. — Ca. 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


93 


then  the  Queene  was  ffull  woe, 
356    And  shee  saw  thai  they  were  goe, 

shee  made  sorrow  &  crye. 
then  shee  rose  &  went  againe 
to  Sir  Rodger,  &  found  him  slaine  ; 
360        his  grey-hound  by  his  feet  did  lye. 


[page  215] 


Queen 
Margaret 


laments  over 


"  alas,"  shee  said,  "  thai  I  was  borne  ! 
my  trew  knight  that  I  haue  lorne, 

they  haue  him  there  slaine  !  " 
364    full  pitteouslye  shee  mad  her  moane, 
&  said,  "  now  must  I  goe  alone  !  " 

the  grey-hound  shee  wold  haue  had  full  faine  ; 


Sir  Roger's 
corpse. 


the  hound  still  by  his  Master  did  lye, 

368    he  licked  his  wounds,  &  did  whine  &  crye. 

this  to  see  the  Queene  had  paine, 

&  said,  "Sir  Roger,  this  hast  thou  for  me  ! 

alas  that  [it]  shold  euer  bee  !  " 
372        her  hayre  shee  tare  in  twayne  ; 


The  grey 
hound  will 
not  leave  the 
corpse. 


&  then  shee  went  &  tooke  her  steed, 
&  wold  noe  longer  there  abyde 

lest  men  shold  find  her  there. 
376    shee  said,  "  Sir  Roger,  now  thou  art  dead, 
who  will  the  right  way  now  me  lead  ? 

for  now  thow  mayst  speake  noe  more." 


The  Queen 


laments 
again  the 
loss  of  Sir 
Roger, 


right  on  the  ground  there  as  he  lay  dead, 
380    shee  kist  him  or  shee  from  him.  yead.1 

god  wott  her  hart  was  sore  ! 
what  for  sorrow  &  dread, 
fast  away  shee  can  her  speede, 
384        shee  wist  not  wither  nor  where. 


kisses  his 
corpse, 


and  speeds 
away. 


1   This  incident  is  not  in  Ca. — F. 


94 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


The  hound 


licks  his 
master's 
wounds,  to 
heal  them. 


What  love  I 


The  hound 


scrapes  a 
grave, 
and  buries 
his  master. 


Margaret 


rides  on  into 
Hungary. 


The  pains  of 
labour  come 
on, 


the  good  grayhound  for  waile  &  woe 
from  the  ~K.night  hee  wold  not  goe, 

but  Lay  &  licked  his  wound ; 
388    he  waite  l  to  haue  healed  them  againe, 
&  therto  he  did  his  paine : 

loe,  such  loue  is  in  a  hound  2  ! 

this  knight  lay  till  he  did  3  stinke  ; 

392    the  greayhound  he  began  to  thinke, 

&  scraped  a  pitt  anon  ; 
therin  he  drew  the  dead  4  corse, 
&  couered  itt  w^th  earth  &  Mosse,5 

396        &  from  him  he  wold  not  gone. 

the  grayhound  lay  still  there  ; 
this  Queene  gan  forth  to  fare 

for  dread  of  her  fone  ; 
400    shee  had  great  sorrow  in  her  hart, 

the  thornes  pricked  her  wonderous  smart,6 

shee  wist  not  wither  to  goe. 

this  lady  forth  fast  can  hye 

404    into  the  land  of  Hugarye  7  ; 

thither  came  shee  w^th  great  woe. 
at  last  shee  came  to  a  wood  side, 
but  then  cold  shee  noe  further  ryde, 

408        her  paynes  tooke  her  soe, 

shee  lighted  downe  in  thai  tyde, 

for  there  shee  did  her  trauncell 8  abyde  ; 

god  wold  that  it  shold  be  soe. 
412    then  shee  w^'th  much  paine 
tyed  her  horsse  by  the  rayne, 

&  rested  her  there  till  her  paynes  were  goe. 


1  expected. — F. 

2  G-rete  kyndenes  ys  in  howndys. — Ca. 
8  The  last  d  is  made  over  an  s  in  the 

MS.— F.  4  deed.— Cop. 

6  And  scraped  on  hym  bothe  ryne  and 


mosse. — Ca. 

6  wonder  smert. — Cop. 

7  Hongarye. — Ca.     Hongrye. — Cop. 

8  for  trauell,    travail. — F.      trauayll. 
—Cop. 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


95 


shee  was  deliuered  of  a  mancliild  sweete  ; 

416    &  when  it  began  to  crye  &  weepe, 

it  ioyed  her  hart  greatly e. 
soone  after,  when  shee  might  stirr, 
shee  tooke  her  child  to  her  full  neere, 

420        And  wrapt l  itt  full  softlye.  [page  2iej 

What  for  wearye  &  for  woe, 
they  fell  a-sleepe  both  towe  ; 

her  steed  stood  her  behind. 
424    then  came  a  knight  rydand  there,2 

&  found  this  ladye  soe  louelye  of  cheere 

as  hee  hunted  after  the  hind. 

the  Knight  hight  Bernard  Mowswinge,3 
428    that  found  the  Queene  sleepinge, 
vnder  the  greenwoode  lyande.4 

softlye  he  went  neere  &  neere  ; 

he  went  on  foot,  &  beheld  her  cheere, 
432        as  a  "Knight  curteous  &  kind. 

he  awaked  that  ladye  of  beawtye  5  ; 
shee  looked  on  him  pitteouslee, 

&  was  affray d  r>  full  sore. 
436    he  said,  "  what  doe  you  here,  Madame  ? 
of  whence  be  you,  or  whats  you?  name  ? 

haue  you  yowr  men  forlorne  7  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  shee  sayd,  "if  you  will  witt,8 
440    my  name  is  9  called  Margerett ; 

in  Arragon  I  was  borne  ; 
heere  I  sufferd  much  greefe  ; 
helpe  me,  Sir,10  out  of  this  Mischeefe  ! 

att  some  towne  that  I  were." 


444 

1  wrauped. — Cop. 

2  nere. — Cop. 

3  Sir  Barnarde  Messengere. — Ca.  Bar 
nard  Mausewynge. — Cop. 

4  lynde.— Cop. 

*  beaute.— Cop. 


and  she  is 
delivered  of 
a  male  child. 

She  joys, 


takes  her 
baby  to  her, 


and  falls 
asleep. 


A  knight 
finds  her, 


Sir  Bernard 
Mowswinge, 


wakes  her, 


and  asks  her 
what  she 
does  there, 
what  is  her 
name  ? 


"  Margaret ; 


help  me ! ' 


6  aferde. — Cop. 

7  MS.  forlorme.— F.     forlore.— P. 

8  wete. — Cop. 

9  MS.  is  is ;  ?for  it  is. — F. 

10  There  appears  a  word  like  it  marked 
out  here  in  the  MS.— F. 


96 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


Sir  Bernard 


takes  her 


and  her 
baby  home, 


the  ~K.night  beheld  the  Ladye  good  ; 
hee  1  thought  shee  was  of  gentle  blood 

that  was  soe  hard  bestead  2  ; 
448    he  tooke  her  vp  curteouslye, 
&  the  child  that  lay  her  bye  ; 
them  both  w^'th  him  he  led, 


woman  to 
tend  her, 


and  gives 
her  all  she 
wants. 


&  made  her  haue  a  woman  att  will, 
452    tendinge  of  her,  as  itt  was  skill,3 

all  for  to  bring  her  a-bedd. 
whatsoeuer  shee  wold  haue, 
shee  needed  itt  not  long  to  crane, 
456        her  speech  was  right  soone  sped. 


She  christens 
her  boy 
Triamore, 


460 


the  christened  the  child  w^th  great  honour, 
&  named  him  Sir  TEYAMOEE. 

then  they  were  of  him  glad  ; 
great  gifts  to  him  was  giuen 
of  Lor^s  &  ladyes  by-deene, 

in  bookes  as  I  read. 


and  stays 
with  her 
new  friends. 


Triamore  is 

taught 

courtesy, 


and  all  folk 
love  him. 


there  dwelled  that  Ladye  longe 
464    w^'th  much  loy  them  amonge  ; 

of  her  the  were  neuer  wearye. 
the  child  was  taught  great  nurterye  4  : 
a  Master  had  him  vnder  his  care, 
468        &  taught  him  curtesie.5 

this  child  waxed  wonderous  well, 
of  great  stature  both  of  fleshe  &  fell ; 
euerye  man  loued  him  trulye, 

472    of  his  companye  all  folke  were  glad ; 

indeed,  noe  other  cause  they  had, 

the  child  was  gentle  &  bold. 


1  MS.  shee.— P.    And.— Ca. 

2  bestadde.— Cop. 

3  skell. — Cop.     reason. — F. 


*  nurture. — P.     norture. — Cop. 
5  Sche  techyd  hur  sone  for  to  wyrke, 
And  taght  hym  evyr  newe. — Ca. 


SIR    THIAMOBE.  97 

Now  of  the  Queene  let  wee  bee, 

476     &  of  the  grayhound  speake  wee  sir  Roger's 

that  I  erst  of  told.  greyhound 


long  7  yeeres,  soe  god  me  sane, 
he  did  keepe  his  Masters  graue, 
480         till  that  hee  waxed  old  ; 

this  Gray-hound  Sir  Roger  kept  1  long, 
&  brought  him  vp  sith  he  was  younge, 
in  story  as  it  is  told  ; 

484     therfore  he  kept  soe  there 

for  the  2  space  of  7  yeere, 
&  goe  from  him  he  ne  wold. 

euer  vpon  his  Masters  graue  he  lay, 
488     there  might  noe  man  haue  him  away  The  hound 

never  leaves 

for  heat  neither  tor  cold,  [page  217]   the  grave, 

without  it  were  once  a  day  except 

he  ran  about  to  gett  his  prey  3  to  get  food. 

492          of  beasts  that  were  bold, 

conyes,  when  he  can  them  gett  ; 
thus  wold  he  labor  for  his  meate, 
yett  great  hungar  he  had  in  how.4 

496     &  7  yeeres  he  dwelled  there, 
till  itt  beffell  on  that  yeere, 

euen  on  christmasse  day,  One  Christ. 

the  gray-hound  (as  the  story  sayes)  tSehound 

500     came  to  the  Kings  palace5  goes  to 

without  any  6  delay. 


1  had  kepte.—  Cop.  «  holde.  —  Cop.    How,  care.   Halliwell. 

2  By  the.—  Cop.  —  F. 

8  praye.  —  Cop.  5  palayes.  —  Cop. 

6  ony.  —  Cop. 

VOL.    II.  H 


98 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


cannot  find 
what  he 
seeks, 


and  goes 
back  to  Sir 
Koger's 
grave. 


Arradas 


thinks  he 
has  seen  the 
dog  before. 


Next  day 


the  hound 
returns, 


but  cannot 

find 

Marrock. 


Arradas  says 
it  is  Sir 
Roger's  dog, 

and  perhaps 
the  Queen 
has  come 
back; 


504 


508 


when  they  Lordta  were  l  sett  at  meate,  soone 
the  grayhound  into  the  hall  runn 
amonge  the  knights  gay  ; 

all  about  he  can  behold, 

but  he  see  not  what  hee  wold ; 

then  went  he  his  way  full  right 
when  he  had  sought  &  cold  not  find  ; 
ffull  gentlye  he  did  his  kind, 

speed  better  when  he  might. 

the  grayhound  ran  forth  his  way 
512    till  he  came  where  his  M.aster  Lay, 

as  fast  as  euer  he  mought. 
the  king  marueiled  at  thai  deed, 
from  whence  he  went,  &  whither  he  yeed, 
516        or  who  him  thither  brought. 

the  ~King  thought  he  had  seene  him  ere, 
but  he  wist  not  well  where, 

therfor  he  said  right  nought. 
520    soone  he  bethought  him  then 
that  he  did  him  erst  ken, 

&  2  still  stayd  in  that  thought. 

the  other  day,  in  the  same  wise, 
524    when  the  ~King  shold  from  his  meate  rise, 

the  Grayhound  came  in  thoe  ; 
all  about  there  he  sought, 
but  the  steward  found  he  nought ; 
528        then  againe  he  began  to  goe. 


the[n]  sayd  the  ~K.ing  in  that  stond, 
"  methinkes  it  is  Sir  Rogers  hound 

that  went  forth  with  the  Queene ; 
532    I  trow  they  be  come  againe  to  this  land. 
Lort?s,  all  this  I  vnderstand, 

it  may  right  well  soe  bee  ; 

1  The  first  e  is  made  over  an  h  in  the  MS. — F.  2  sate  styll  in  a. — Cop. 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


99 


"  if  thai  they  be  into  this  Land  come, 
536    we  shall  haue  word  therof  soone 

&  within  short  space  ; 
for  neuer  since  the  went  I-wisse 
I  saw  not  the  gray  hound  ere  this ; 
540        it  is  a  marueilous  case ! 


"  when  he  cometh  againe,  follow  him, 
fo[r]  euermore  he  will  run  l  . 

to  his  Masters  dwelling  place  ; 
544    run  &  goe,  looke  ye  not  spare, 
till  thai  yee  come  there 

to  Sir  Rodger  &  my  Queene." 


when  the 
dog  comes 
again,  some 
lords  are  to 
follow  him 


to  Sir  Roger 
and  the 
Queen. 


then  the  3?  day,  amonge  them  all 
548    the  grayhound  came  into  the  hall, 

to  meate  ere  the  were  2  sett. 
Marrocke  the  steward  was  within, 
the  grayhound  thought  he  wold  not  blin 
552        till  he  with  him  had  mett ; 


Next  day 
the  dog 
comes  again, 


finds 
Mar  rock, 


he  tooke  the  steward  by  the  throte, 
&  assunder  he  it  bote  3  ; 

but  then  he  wold  not  byde, 
556    for  to  his  graue  he  rann. 

there  follolwed  him  many  a  man, 

some  on  horsse,  some  beside  ; 


and 

bites  him 
through  the 
throat. 


Men  follow 
the  dog 


&  when  he  came  where  his  Master  was, 
560    he  Layd  him  downe  beside  the  grasse 

And  barked  at  the  men  againe.  [page  218] 

there  might  noe  man  him  from  the  place  gett, 
&  yett  with  staues  the  did  him  beate, 
564        thai  he  was  almost  slaine. 


to  Sir  Roger's 
grave, 


which  he  will 
not  quit. 


1  renne.— Cop.  3  MS.  o  over  a  y.— F.     The  hovnd 

2  werere,  in  the  MS. — F.  wrekyd  hys  maystyrs  dethe. — Ca. 

H  2 


100 

They  return, 


and  Arradas 
says  that 
Marrock  has 
slain  Sir 
Eoger. 


He  orders  a 
search  for 
his  corpse. 


They  find 
the  body, 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 

&  when  the  men  saw  noe  better  boote, 
then  the  men  yeed  home  on  horsse  &  foote, 

with  great  wonder,  I  weene. 
568    the  ~K.ing  said,  "  by  gods  paine, 

I  trow  Sir  Marrocke  hath  Sir  E/odger  slaine, 

&  with  treason  famed  l  my  Queene. 

"  goe  yee  &  seeke  there  againe  ; 
572    for  the  hounds  ~M.aster  there  is  slaine, 
some  treason  there  hath  beene." 

thither  they  went,  soe  god  me  saue, 

&  found  Sir  Roger  in  his  graue, 
576        for  thai  was  soone  scene  : 


and  take  it 
to  Arradas, 


who  weeps, 


laments  over 

Marrock's 

treachery, 


&  there  they  looked  him  there  vpon, 
for  he  was  hole  both  flesh  &  bone, 

&  to  the  court  his  body  they  brought. 
580    for  when  the  ~K.ing  did  him  see, 
the  teares  ran  downe  from  his  eye, 

full  sore  itt  him  forethought. 

the  grayhound  2  he  wold  not  from  his  course  3  fare 

584    then  was  the  ~K.ing  cast  in  care, 

&  said,  "  Marroccke  hath  done  me  teene  ; 
slaine  he  hath  a  curteous  JLnighi, 
&  fained 4  my  Queene  with  great  vnright, 

588        as  a  traitor  keene." 


592 


the  ~K.ing  let  draw  anon-right 

the  stewards  bodye,  thai  false  ~K.nighi, 

with  horsse  through  the  towne ; 
then  he  hanged  him  on  a  tree, 
thai  all  men  might  his  body  see, 

thai  he  had  done  treason. 


1  defamed.— F.     flemed.— Cop. 

2  grehound. — Cop. 

3  corse.— Cop. 


4  for   fained,   defamed. — F. 
— Ca.     flemed. — Cop. 


flemyd. 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


101 


Sir  Rogers  Body  the  next  day 
596     the  King  buryed  in  good  array, 
with  many  a  bold  baron.1 


Sir  Roger's 
corpse  is 
buried, 


600 


604 


the  Grayhound  was  neuer  away 
by  night  nor  yet  by  day, 

but  on  the  ground  he  did  dye. 
the  King  did  send  his  messengere 
in  cue  rye  place  far  &  ncere 

after  the  Queene  to  spye  ; 
but  for  ought  he  cold  enquire, 
he  cold  of  that  Ladye  nothing  heare  ; 

therfore  the  King  was  sorry e.1 


and  his 
hound 


dies. 


Arradas  tries 
to  get 


tidings  of 
his  Queen, 


but  can  hear 
none. 


the  King  sayd,  "  I  trow  noe  reed, 
608     for  well  I  wott  that  shee  is  dead ; 
for  sorrowe  now  shall  I  dye  ! 

alas,  that  euer  shee  from  mee  went ! 

this  false  steward  hath  me  shent 
612         throughe  his  false  treacherye." 


He  thinks 
her  dead, 


616 


this  "King  lined  in  great  sorrow 
both  euening  &  morrow 

till  that  hee  were  brought  to  ground, 
he  liued  thus  many  a  yeere 
with  mourning  &  with  euill  cheere, 

his  sorrowes  lasted  long  : 


and  lives  in 
sorrow 


many  years, 


&  euer  it  did  him  great  paine 

620     when  hee  did  thinke  how  S/r  Roger  was  slaine, 

&  how  helped  him  his  hound ; 
&  of  his  Queene  that  was  soe  Mylde, 
how  shee  went  from  him  great  with  child ; 

624         for  woe  then  did  hee  sound.2 


grieving 
over  Sir 
Roger's 
death 


and  his 
pregnant 
Queen's 
banishment. 


1  Percy  marks   the   three   last   lines 
as   separate   stanzas,   but   I   add  them 


to  those  that  precede  them. — F. 
2  swoon. — F. 


102 


SIR   TBIAMORE. 


He  mourns 


and  is  sad  at 
heart. 


Meantime 
Triamore 
is  fourteen, 


long  time  thus  lined  the  King 
in  great  sorrow  &  Mourning, 

&  oftentime  did  weepe  ; 
628    he  tooke  great  thought  more  &  more, 
It  made  his  hart  verrye  sore, 
his  sighs  were  sett  soe  deepe. 

now  of  the  King  wee  will  bline, 
632    &  of  the  Queene  let  vs  begin, 

&  Sir  l  Tryamore  ; 
for  when  he  was  14  yeere  old, 
there  was  noe  man  soe  bold 
636        durst  doe  him  dishonor  2 ; 


[page  219] 


strong, 
and  tall, 


and  well 
doing. 


in  euerye  time  3  both  stout  &  stronge, 
&  in  stature  large  &  longe, 

comlye  of  hye  color  ; 
640    all  that  euer  he  dwelled  amonge, 
he  neuer  did  none  of  them  wronge, 

the  more  that  was  his  honor. 


The  King  of 

Hungary 

dies, 

leaving  only 
a  daughter, 
fair  Helen, 
of  fourteen, 


in  that  time  sikerlye 
644    dyed  the  King  of  Hungarye  4 

that  was  of  great  age  I-wiss  5  ; 
he  had  no  heire  his  land  to  hold 
but  a  daughter  was  14  yeers  old  6  ; 
648        faire  [Hellen 7]  shee  named  is. 


white  as  a 
lily. 


shee  was  as  white  as  lilye8  flower, 
&  comely,  of  gay  color, 

the  fairest  of  any  towne  or  tower ; 


her  sonne. — Cop. 
dy  sshonoure. — Cop. 
lymme. — Cop. 
Hungry. — Cop. 

The  second  s  is  made  over  an  e  in 
the  MS.— F. 
6  of  vij.  yerys  elde. — Ca. 


7  See  1.  775.   Hellene,  1. 1587  below.— 
F.     Her  name  Helyne  ys.— Ca.     Elyne. 
—Cop. 

8  The  top  of  a  long  5  whose  bottom  is 
marked  through,  is  left  in  the  MS.  before 
the  first  I.— F. 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


103 


652    ehee  was  well  shapen  of  foote  &  hand, 
peere  shee  had  none  in  noe  land, 
shee  was  soe  fresh  &  soe  amorous. 


for  when  her  father  was  dead, 
656    great  warr  began  to  spread 

in  that  land  about ; 

then  the  Ladyes  councell  gan  her  reade, 
*  gett  her  a  lord  her  land  to  lead, 
660        to  rule  the  realme  without  doubt ; 
some  mighty e  prince  that  well  might 
rule  her  land  w?'th  reason  &  right, 
that  all  men  to  him  might  Lout.' 


Her  land  is 
invaded ; 


her  council 
tell  her  to 
marry  a 
lord  to 
protect  her. 


664    &  when  her  councell  had  sayd  soe, 
for  great  need  shee  had  therto, 

shee  graunted  them  without  Lye  : 
the  Lady  said,  "  I  will  not  feare 
668    but  he  [be]  prince  or  princes  peere, 
&  cheefe  of  all  chiualrye." 


She  consents, 


therto  shee  did  consent, 
&  gaue  her  Lords  commandement 
672        a  great  lusting  for  to  crye ; 
&  at  the  lustine,  shold  soe  bee, 
what  man  that  shold  win  the  degree,1 
shold  win  that  Ladye  trulye. 

676    the  day  of  lusting  then  was  sett, 
halfe  a  yeere  without  lett, 
without  any  more  delay, 
because  the  might  haue  good  space, 
680    Lords,  "knights,  dukes,  in  euerye  place, 
for  to  be  there  that  day. 


proclaims  a 
jousting, 


the  winner 
at  which 
shall  win  her 
too. 


The  day  is 
fixed. 


Fr.  degre,  a  degree,  ranke,  or  place  of  honour.     Cotgrave. — F. 


104 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


The  best 
lords 


prepare  to 
contend. 


Triamore 
hears  of  the 
jousting, 

and  resolves 
to  go  to  it, 


but  he  has  no 
horse  or 
arms. 


Lords,  the  best  in  euerye  Land, , 
hard  tell  of  thai  rydand, 
684        &  made  them  readye  full  gay  ; 
of  enerye  land  there  was  the  best,1 
of  the  States  thai  were  honest  a 
attyred  3  many  a  Lady  gay. 

688    great  was  thai  chiualrye 

thai  came  thai  time  to  HUNGARYE, 

there  for  to  lust  w^th  might, 
at  last  TRIAMORE  hard  tyding 
692    that  there  shold  be  a  lusting  ; 
thither  wold  he  wend. 

if  he  wist  thai  he  might  gaine 
w^th  all  his  might,  he  wold  be  faine  4 
696        thai  gay  Ladye  for  to  win  ; 

hee  had  noe  horsse  nay  noe  other  geere, 
Nor  noe  weapon  w^th  him  to  beare  ; 
thai  brake  his  hart  in  twaine. 


[page  220] 


He  asks  Sir 
Bernard  to 
lend  him 
some, 


and  the 
knight  tells 
him  he 
knows  no 
thing  about 
it. 

Triamore 
asks  to 
be  tried. 


700    he  thought  both  euen  &  morrow 

where  he  might  some  armour  borrowe, 

therof  wold  hee  be  faine. 
to  Sir  Barnard  then  he  can  wend,5 
704    thai  he  wold  armour  lend  6 

to  iust  against  the  knights  amaine.7 

then  said  Sir  Barnard,  "  what  hast  thou  thought  ? 
pardew  !  of  iusting  thou  canst  nought ! 
708        for  yee  bee  not  able  wepon  to  weld." 
"  Sir,"  said  TRIAMORE,  "  what  wott  yee 
of  what  strenght  thai  I  bee 
till  I  haue  assayd  in  feeld  ?  " 


1  bestee. — Cop. 

2  moost  honasty. — Cop. 


8  dressed  herself:  parallel  to  1.  684. 
States  may  mean  "  nobles." — F. 


4  He  wolde  purvey  hym  fulle  fayne. 
— Ca. 

5  mene. — Cop. 

6  lene. — Cop.  7  of  mayne. — Cop. 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


105 


712     then  Sir  .Barnard  thai  was  full  hend, 
said,  "  TEIAMOR,  if  thow  wilt  wend, 

thou  shalt  lacke  noe  weed  ; 
I  will  lend  thee  all  my  geere, 
716     horsse  &  harneis,  slieild  &  spere, 
thou  art  nothing  1  to  dread  ; 


Sir  Bernard 
then  prom 
ises  to  lend 


him  horse 
and  arms, 


"  alsoe  thither  with  thee  will  I  ryde, 
&  euer  nye  be  by  thy  side 
720         to  helpe  thee  if  thou  haue  need  ; 
all  things  thai  thow  wilt  haue, 
gold  &  siluer,  if  thow  wilt  craue, 
thy  lourney  for  to  speed." 


go  with  him, 


and  provide 
him  money. 


724     then  was  TRIAMORE  glad  &  light, 

&  thanked  Barnard  with  all  his  might 

of  his  great  proferinge. 
thai  day  the  lusting  shold  bee, 
728     TRIAMORE  sett  him  on  his  knee 
&  asked  his  mother  blessinge. 

at  home  shee  wold  haue  kept  him  faine 
but  all  her  labor  was  in  vaine, 
732         there  might  be  noe  letting, 
shee  saw  it  wold  noe  better  bee, 
her  blessing  shee  gaue  him  verelye 
w[i]th  full  sore  weepinge. 


On  the  day 

of  the  joust, 

Triamorc 
asks  his 
mother's 
blessing, 


and  she  gives 
it  him 
sorrowfully. 


736     &  when  it  was  on  the  Morrow  day, 
TRIAMORE  was  in  good  array, 

armed  &  well  dight ; 
when  he  was  sett  on  his  steed, 
740     he  was  a  man  both  2  lenght  &  bread,3 
&  goodlye  in  mans  sight. 


In  the 

morning, 

Triamore 


1  nothenge. — Cop. 


2  in. — Cop. 


3  brede. — Cop. 


106 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


starts  with 
Sir  Bernard. 


then  TRIAMORE  to  the  feeld  can  ryde, 
&  S^r  Barnard  by  his  side ; 
744        they  were  locund  &  light ; 
there  was  none  in  all  the  feild 
that  was  more  seemlye  vnder  sheild ; 
he  rode  full  like  a  knight. 


Queen  Helen 
of  Hungary 
looks  from  a 
turret 


on  the  gay 
scene  of 


748    then  was  the  faire  Lady  sett 
full  hye  vppon  a  turrett,1 
for  to  behold  that  play ; 
there  was  many  a  seemlye  ~K.nightj 
752    princes,  Lords,  &  dukes  of  Might, 
themselues  for  to  assay, 


helmed 
knights. 


Triamore 


w^th  helme  on  theire  heads  bright 
that  all  the  feelds  shone  with  light, 
756        they  were  soe  stout  &  gay : 
then  Sir  TRIAMORE  &  S^r  BARNARD 
the  pressed  them  into  the  feeld  forward,2 
there  durst  noe  man  say  nay. 


happens  to 
choose  his 
father,  King 
Arradas's 
side. 


760    there  was  much  price  3  &  pride 

when  euerye  man  to  other  can  ryde, 

&  lords  of  great  renowne  ; 
it  beffell  TRIAMORE  that  tyde 
764    for  to  be  on  his  fathers  side, 
the  King  of  Arragon. 


A  big  Lom 
bard  lord 
rides  forth ; 


Triamore 
throws  him. 


the  first  that  rode  forth  certainlye 
was  a  great  Lord  of  Lumbardye, 
768        a  wonderfull  bold  Barron. 
TRIAMOR  rode  him  againe  : 
for  all  that  lord  had  Might  &  maine, 
the  child  bare  him  downe. 


[page  221] 


Hye  up  in  a  garett. — Ca. 


warde. — Cop. 


3  prees. — Cop. 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


107 


772    l  then  cryed  Sir  Barnard  w*th  honor, 

"A  TRIAMOR,  a  TRIAMORE  !  " 

for  men  shold  him  ken. 
Mayd  Hellen  2  thai  was  soe  mild, 
776    more  shee  beheld  TRIAMORE  the  child 
then  all  the  other  men. 


and  Sir 
Bernard 
shouts  "A 
Triamore" 
to  make  him 
known. 
Queen  Helen 
views  him 
with  favour. 


then  the  Kings  sonne  of  Nauarrne  3 
wold  not  his  body  warne  4  ; 
780        he  pricked  forth  on  the  plaine. 
then  young  Triamore  that  was  stout, 
turned  himselfe  round  about, 
&  fast  rode  him  againe ; 


The  Prince 
of  Navarne 


rides  out ; 
Triamore 

charges  him ; 


784    soe  neither  of  them  were  to  ground  cast,5 
they  sate  soe  wonderous  fast, 

like  men  of  much  might, 
then  came  forth  a  Bachelour,6 
788    a  prince  proud  without  peere ; 

S^r  lames,  forsooth,  he  hight ; 


neither  is 
thrown. 


Sir  James  of 
Almaigne 


he  was  the  Emperours  sonne  of  Almaigne  7 ; 
he  rode  Sir  TRIAMORE  8  againe, 
792        with  hard  strenght  to  fight. 

Sir  lames  had  such  a  stroake  indeed 
that  he  was  tumbled  from  his  steed  ; 

then  failed  all  his  might. 
796    there  men  might  see  swords  brast, 
helmes  ne  sheilds  might  not  last; 
&  thus  it  dured  till  night ; 


next  charges 
Triamore, 


and  is  un 
horsed. 


The  joust 
lasts 


till  night. 


1  Ca.  puts  this  stanza  after  the  next. 
-F. 

2  Elyne. — Cop. 

8  Armony. — Ca.     Nauerne. — Cop. 
4  A.-S.  warnian,  to  take  care  of,  beware. 
-F. 


5  Ca.  makes  Triamore  bear  him  down, 
and    transfers    this    to    Sir    James    in 
the  next  stanza. — F. 

6  batchelere. — Cop. 

7  Almaine. — Cop. 

8  ?  MS.  Triamoir.— F. 


108 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


Next  day, 


it  begins 


and  the 
knights 
charge 
fiercely. 


King 
Arradas 


is  thrown  by 
his  son 
Triamore, 


who  also 
vanquishes 


but  when  the  sun  drew  neere l  west, 
800    and  all  the  Lords  went  to  rerst, 

[Not  so  the  maide  Elyne.2] 
the  ~K.nigliis  attired  them  in  good  arraye, 
on  steeds  great,  wiih  trappers  3  gaye, 
before  the  sun  can  4  shine  ; 

804    then  to  the  feeld  the  pricked  prest, 
&  euerye  man  thought  himselfe  best 
[As  the  mayden  faire  they  paste.2] 
then  they  feirclye  ran  together, 
great  speres  in  peeces  did  shimmer,5 

808        their  timber  might  not  last. 

&  at  thai  time  there  did  run6 
the  Kmgr  Arradas  of  Arragon : 

his  sonne  Triiamore  mett  him  in  thai  tyde, 
812    &  gaue  his  father  such  a  rebound 
thai  harse  &  man  fell  to  the  ground,7 

soe  stoutlye  gan  he  ryde. 

then  the  next  ~K.nighi  thai  hee  mett 
816    was  S^r  lames  ;  &  such  a  stroake  him  sett 

vpon  the  sheild  ther  on  the  plaine 
thai  the  blood  brast  out  at  his  nose  &  eares, 
his  steed  vnto  the  ground  him  beares  ; 
820        then  was  Sir  Barnard  faine. 


Queen  Helen 
falls  in  love 
with 
Triamore. 


thai  Maid  of  great  honor 

sett  her  loue  on  younge  TRIAMORE 

thai  fought  alwayes  as  a  feirce  8  Lyon. 


1  ferre. — Cop. 

3  This  line  is  from  Copland's  text.— H. 

3  The  trappings  of  horses.    Halliwell. 
— F. 

4  gan. — Cop. 

5  shyuer. —  Cop. 

6  dyde  ronne. — Cop. 

7  Tryamore  must  be  supposed  to  have 
changed   since   the   first   day,  when   he 


was  on  his  father's  side :  see  1.  763.  In 
1.  920,  Arradas  is  accused  of  killing  the 
Emperor's  son,  whom  Triamore  slays 
(1.  860-1),  but  he  (Arradas)  declares  he 
had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  1.  974-9.  He 
only  rescues  his  son  from  the  Emperor's 
men,  1.  866-7.— F. 
8  fyers. — Cop. 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


109 


824     speres  thai  day  many  were  spent, 

&  with  swords  there  was  many  a  stripe  lent, 
till  the  [re]  failed  light  of  the  sunn. 


on  the  Morrow  all  they  were  faine 
828     for  to  come  into  the  feild  againe 

w^th  great  spere  &  sheild. 
then  the  Duke  of  Siuille,  Sir  Phylar,1 
that  was  a  doughtye  knight  in  euoye  warr, 
832         he  rode  first  into  the  feild ; 


Next  day 


the  Duke  of 
Seville 


836 


&  Triamore  tooke  his  spere, 
against  the  Duke  he  can  it  beare, 

&  smote  him  in  the  sheild ; 
a-sunder  in  2  peeces  it  went ; 
&  then  many  a  louelye  Lady  gent, 

full  well  they  him  beheld. 


is  charged 
by  Triamore, 


and  his 
shield  split. 


then  came  forth  a  Knight  that  hight  Terrey,  Sir  Terrcy 

840     hee  was  a  great  Lord  of  Surrey,2  [*jase  222]  °f  Syria 

he  thought  Noble  TRIAMORE  to  assayle ;  charges 

&  TRIAMORE  rode  to  him  blithe  Triamore, 

in  all  the  strenght  tJtat  he  might  driue, 
844         he  thought  he  wold  not  fayle  ; 


he  smote  him  soe  in  that  stond 
that  horsse  &  man  fell  to  the  ground,3 
soe  sore  his  stroke  he  sett. 


and  gets 
thrown. 


848     then  durst  noe  man  att  TRIAMORE  [ride,4] 
for  fortune  held  all  on  his  side 
all  those  dayes  3.5 


No  one  else 
will  try 
Triamore ; 


1  Syselle,   sir  Sywere. — Ca.     Cycyll, 
sir  Fylar. — Cop. 

2  The   dewke  of  Lythyr,   sir  Tyrre. 
— Ca. 


3  ...  the  dewke,  bothe  hors  and  man, 
Turnyd  toppe  ovyr  tayle. — Ca. 

4  to  Tryamoure  ryde. — Cop. 

5  The  Cambridge  text  makes  Triamore 


110 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


but  Sir 
James 


lies  in  wait 
for  him, 


Sir  lames,  sonne  vnto  the  Emperour, 
852    had  enuye  to  Sir  Triamore, 

and  laid  wait 1  for  him  priuilye. 


and  runs 
him  through 
the  thigh, 


att  the  last  TRIAMORE  came  ryding  bye. 
Sir  lames  said,  "  Triamore  !  thou  shalt  dye, 
856        for  thou  hast  done  me  shame." 
he  rode  to  Triamore  with  a  spere, 
&  thorrow  2  the  thigh  he  can  him  beare ; 
he  had  almost  him  slaine. 


for  which 
Triamore 
kills  him, 


but  is  beset 
by  his  men. 


860    but  Tryamore  hitt  him  in  3  the  head 
thai  he  fell  downe  starke  dead. 

then  was  all  his  men  woe ; 
then  wold  they  haue  slaine  Tryamore 
864    without  he  had  had  great  succour  4  ; 
they  purposed  to  doe  soe. 


Arradas 

rescues 

Triamore, 


and  Sir 
Bernard 


takes  him 
home. 

His  mother 


sends  for  a 
doctor. 
The  jousting 
knights 
ride  to 
Queen  Helen 


with  thai  came  ~King  Arradas  5  then, 
&  reschued  Tryamore  with  all  his  men, 
868        thai  stood  in  great  doubt, 
then  Sir  Barnard  was  full  woe 
thai  Tryamore  was  hurt  soe  ; 

then  to  his  owne  house  he  him  brought. 

872    but  when  the  Mother  saw  her  sonns  wound, 
shee  fell  downe  for  sorrow  to  the  ground, 

&  after  a  Leeche  shee  sent. 
of  6  this,  all  the  Lords  thai  were  7  lustinge, 
876    to  the  pallace  8  made  highinge,9 
&  to  thai  Ladye  went. 


serve  "  the  dewke  of  Aymere"  as  lie  served 
Terrey,  and  shiver  the  shield  and  spear  of 
James  of  Almayne,  p.  28-9  Percy  Soe. 
ed.— F. 

1  layde  wayte. — Cop. 

2  throughe. — Cop. 

3  hytthymon. — Cop. 


the  greter  socoure. — Cop. 
Arragus. — Cop. 
on  or  after. — F. 
was  at. — Cop. 
pallayes. — Cop. 
hyenge. — Cop. 


SIR   TRIAMORE.  Ill 

truly,  as  the  story  sayes, 
the  l  pricked  forth  to  the  pallace 

880        the  Ladyes  will  to  heare,  to  hear 

Bachelours  &  knights  prest, 
that  shee  might  choose  of  them  the  best  whom  she 

will  choose. 

w/Mch  to  her  faynest  were. 

884    the  Ladye  beheld  all  that  fayre  Meanye, 
but  Tryamore  shee  cold  not  see  : 

tho  chaunged  all  her  cheere, 

then  2  shee  sayd  "  Lord,  where  is  hee  3  she  chooses 

888    that  euerye  day  wan  the  degree  ?  Where  is  he? 

I  chuse  him  to  my  peere.4  " 

al  about  5  the  Tryamore  sought ;  He  can't  be 

he  was  ryddn  home  ;  the  found  him  nought  ; 
892        then  was  that  Ladye  woe. 

the  Knights  were  afore  her  brought, 

&  of  respite  shee  them  besought,  so  Helen 

&asks  for  a 
noe  more:  year's  delay, 

896   shee  said,  "  Lords,  soe  god  me  saue  ! 
he  that  wan  me,  he  shall  me  haue  ; 

ye  wot  well  that  my  cry  was  soe." 
the  all  consented  her  vntill, 
900    for  shee  6  said  Nothing  ill, 
the  said  it  shold  be  soe. 

for  when  they  had  all  sayd, 
then  answered  that  fayre  Mayd, 

904        "  I  will  haue  none  but  Tryamore."  shewiiihave 

then  all  the  Lords  that  were  present 
tooke  their  Leaue,  &  home  went ; 
there  wan  the  litle  honor. 


1  they. — Cop.  4  fere. — Cop. 

3  Tho.— Cop.  5  All  aboute.— Cop. 

*  he. — Cop.  6f  had  inserted. — Cop. 


112 


SIR    TfilAMOBE. 


Sir  James's 
men  carry 
his  corpse 


to  his  father, 
the  Emperor, 


and  tell  him 

that 

Triamore 


908    S^r  lames  men  were  nothing  faine 
because  their  faster,  he  was  slaine, 

That  was  soe  stout  in  stowre  ;  [page  223] 

in  chaire  his  body  the  Layd, 
912    &  led  him  home,  as  I  haue  sayd, 
vnto  his  father  the  Emperour  ; 

&  when  thai  hee  his  sonne  gan  see, 
a  sorrye  man  then  was  hee, 

916        &  asked  '  who  had  done  thai  dishonor  l  ?  ' 
the  sayd  "  wee  [ne]  wott  who  it  is  I-wisse,2 
but  Sir  Tryamore  he  named  is, 
soe  the  called  him  3  in  the  crye ; 


and  Arradas 

killed  his 
son. 


The  Emperor 

vows 

revenge, 


sttmmons  a 
host, 


and  invades 
Arragon. 


920    "  the  TLing  of  Arragon  alsoe, 
he  helped  thy  4  sonne  to  sloe, 

w^'th  all  his  company e." 
they  said,  "  the  be  good  warryoirs  ; 
924    they  byte  5  vs  w^'th  sharpe  showers  6 
wtth  great  villanye.7  " 

"  Alas  !  "  said  the  Emperour, 
"  till  I  be  reuenged  on  thai  traytour, 
928        now  shall  I  neuer  cease  ! 

the  shall  haue  many  a  sharpe  shower, 
both  the  ~K.ing  &  Tryamore, 
they  shall  neuer  haue  peace  !  " 

932    the  Emperour  sayd  the  shold  repent ; 
&  after  great  companye  he  sent 

of  princes  bold  in  presse, 
Dukes,  Earles,  &  lords  of  price.8 
936    w^th  a  great  armye,  the  Duke  sayes, 
the  yeed  to  Arragon  without  lesse. 


1  dysshonour. — Cop. 

2  has  ywys. — Cop. 

3  called  the  him. — Cop. 

4  MS.  the.— F. 


5  bete.— Cop. 

6  shoutes. — Cop. 

7  vilany. — Cop. 

8  pryse. — Cop. 


TWAMOItE. 


944 


952 


956 


- 


Arradas' 


&  to  a  castle  tee  fledd  anon 
*  "ctualls  4  it  for  dread. 


was  bold  &  stout 
the  eastte  about- 

began  to  spread 


t  to  make  then,  dread 


&  stout, 

the  castle  about 
&  his  banner  he  gan  to  sp;ead. 

!  gane  assault  ?  to  the  hold 
?  Arradas  was  stout  &  bold 
3— J  him  full  well.* 


did  last. 


the  Emperour  was  hurt  il,therfore 
his  men  were  hurt  sore  ' 

e 


-j  -~^. — Cop. 

•  SfSsftur*4-*- 

r is « -  ^IccaSie7s: 


113 


Arradas 


takes  refuge 
Jn  his  castle, 


where  the 
Emperor 


and  assaults 

it, 

Arradas 


fires  and 
hurls  stones 


on  the 

besiegers. 


After  seven 
weeks 


114 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


Arradas 


sends  to 


the  Emperor 


to  say  that 
he  did  not 
slay  his  son , 


and  to 
propose  a 
settlement 
of  their 
quarrel  by 
single 
combat ; 


if  the 
Emperor's 
knight  wins 


Arradas  will 
give  in ; 


968 


972 


976 


980 


984 


988 


if  Arradas's         992 
knight  wins, 


~K.ing  Arradas  thought  full  longe 
thai  hee  was  beseeged  soe  stronge, 
with  soe  much  might  &  maine  : 

2  Lords  forth  a  Message  he  sent, 

&  straight  to  the  Emperour  the  l  went. 

soe  when  they  cold  him  see, 
of  peace  2  they  can  him  pray,3 
to  take  truce  4  till  a  certaine  day. 

the  kneeled  downe  on  their  knee, 

&  said,  "  our  "King  sendeth  word  to  thee 
that  he  neuer  yo^r  sonne  did  slay,5 

soe  he  wold  quitt  him  faine  ; 
he  was  not  then  present, 
nor  did  noe  wise  6  consent 

that  jour  sonne  was  slaine. 
That  [he]  will  proue,  if  you  will  soe, 
your  selfe  and  he  betweene  you  tow, 

if  you  will  it  sayne  ; 

"  or  else  take  your  selfe  a  ~K.niglit, 
&  he  will  gett  another  to  fight 

on  a  certaine  day  : 
if  that  your  ~Knight  hap  soe 
ours  for  to  discomfort  or  sloe, 

as  by  fortune  itt  may, 
our  "King  then  will  doe  your  will, 
be  att  your  bidding  lowde  &  still 

without  more  delay ; 

"  &  alsoe  if  it  you  betyde 
thai  your  knight  on  your  syde 
be  slaine  by  Mischance, 


[page  224 


1  yy. — Cop.  "  peas. — Cop. 

3  Only  the  long  part  of  the  y  is  in  the 
MS.— F. 


4  treues. — Cop. 

5  sle.— Cop. 

6  noe  wise  did. — Cop. 


TRIAMOBE. 


any  distanced 


115 


the  Emperor 
shall  stop 
his  siege. 


806 


ceased  hi 


The 
Emperor 


as  he  has  a 

famous 

champion. 


loos 


M 


succour 


essengers  were  come  4 


'«soe  stout  &8tronge?" 


for  tofare. 


sease.— 


se.—  Cop. 


i  2 


Arradaa 


sends  for 
Triamore 
to  fight  for 
him, 


but  can  hear 
no  tidings  of 
mm. 


Triamore 
Sets  well, 


.—  Cop. 


116 


SIR   TRIAMOItE. 


and  asks  his 
mother  who 
his  father  is. 


he  sayd,  "  mother,"  w^th  mild  cheere, 
"  &  I  wist  what  my  father  were, 
1020         the  lesse  were  my  care." 


His  mother 
will  not  tell 
him  till  he 
marries, 


so  he  starts 
for  Arragon. 


"  sonne,"  shee  said,  "  them  shalt  witt ; 
when  l  thou  hast  Marryed  that  Ladye  sweet, 

thy  father  thou  shalt  ken." 
1024     "  mother,"  he  said,  "if  you  will  [soe,2] 
haue  good  day,  for  now  I  goe 

to  doe  my  Masteryes  if  I  can.3  " 

then  rode  he  ouer  dale  &  downe 
1028     vntill  he  came  to  Arragon, 
oner  many  a  weary  way. 

aduentures  many  him  befell, 

&  all  he  scaped  full  well, 
1032         in  all  his  great  lourney. 


On  his  way 


he  sets  his 
greyhounds 
at  a  hart, 


and  is 
attacked  by 
fourteen 
foresters. 


Triamore 
tries  to 
pacify  them, 


offers  them 
all  his 
money. 


1040 


1044 


he  saw  many  a  wild  beast 
both  in  heath  &  in  forrest ; 

he  had  good  grey-hounds  3  ; 
then  to  a  hart  he  let  them  run 
till  14  fosters  spyed  him  soone, 

soe  threatened  him  greatlye  ; 

they  yeede  to  him  with  weapons  on  euerye  side ; 
it  was  noe  boote  to  bid  them  byde  ; 

Tryamore  was  loth  to  flye, 
&  said  vnto  them,  "  Lorcfe,  I  you  pray, 
lett  me  in  peace  wend  my  way 

to  seeke  my  grayhounds  3." 

then  said  Tryamore  as  in  this  time, 
"  gold  &  siluer,  take  all  mine 

if4  that  I  haue  tresspassed  ought," 


1  Whan.— Cop. 

2  soo.— Ca. 


3  and  speke  wyth  my  lemman. — Ca. 

4  Of.— Cop. 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


117 


1048     The  said,  "  wee  will  meete  with  thy  anon, 
there  shall  noe  gold  borrow  thee  soone,1 

but  in  prison  thou  shalt  be  brought, 
Such  is  the  law  of  the  ground  ;  2 
1052     Whosoeuer  therin  may  be  found, 
other  way  goe  the  nought." 

then  Sir  Tryamore  was  full  woe 
that  to  prison  he  shold  goe ; 
1056         hee  thought  the  flesh  to  deare  bought, 
there  was  no  more  to  say, 
the  fosters  att  him  gan  lay 
with  strokes  sterne  and  stout. 

1060     there  Tryamore  w^th  them  fought ; 
some  to  the  ground  be  brought ; 

he  made  them  lowe  to  looke  ; 
some  of  them  fast  gan  pray, 
1064     the  other  fled  fast  away 

with  wounds  wyde  that  they  sought.3 

Tryamore  sought  &  found  4  his  gray-hounds  ; 
he  hear[k]ned  to  their  yerning5  sounds, 
1068         &  thought  not  for  to  leaue  them  soe. 
at  last  he  came  to  a  water  side  ; 
there  he  saw  the  beast  abyde 

that  had  slaine  2  of  his  grayhounds  ; 

1072     the  31!  full  sore  troubled  the  hind, 
&  he  hurt  him  with  his  trinde  6  ; 

then  was  Tryamore  woe. 
if  the  battaile  had  lasted  a  while, 
1076     the  hart  wold  the  hound  beguile,7 
&  take  his  life  for  euermore. 


[page  225]     They  refuse 


and  threaten 
to  prison 
him. 


Triamore 


is  attacked 
by  the 
foresters, 


and  soon 

discomfits 

them, 


but  finds 
two  of  his 
greyhounds 


slain  by  a 
hart, 


and  the  other 
wounded. 


1  ?  MS. :  it  may  be  meant  for  frame  ; 
but  one  stroke  of  the  m  is  missing. — F. 

2  Ca.  has  "ye  must  lese  yowre  ryght 
honde." — F. 

3  ?  tooke.— F. 

4  rod  and  sought. — Cop. 


5  ?  running. — F. 

6  One  stroke  of  the  n  is  wanting  in  the 
MS.     Ca.  has  Tyndys,  branches  of  the 
antlers. — F. 

7  begyle. — Cop. 


118 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


Triamore 

kills  the 
deer, 

blows  his 
horn, 


and  king 
Arradaa 
hears  it. 


A  forester 
runs  in, 


1080 


1084 


1088 


tells  the  king 

that  his 

keepers  have 

been  slain 

by  the  1092 

knight 


Tiyamore  smote  att  the  deere, 
and l  to  the  hart  went  the  spere  ; 

then  his  home  he  blew  fall  sore, 
the  King  Lay  there  beside 
at  Mannowr  2  thai  same  tide ; 

he  hard  a  home  blowe ; 

they  had  great  wonder  in  hall, 
both  Knights,  Squiers,3  &  all, 

for  noe  man  cold  it  know, 
w^'th  that  ran  in  a  foster 
into  the  hall  w^th  enill  eheere, 

&  was  fall  sorry,  I  trow. 

the  King  of  tydings  gan  him  fraine ; 

he  answered,  "  Si?  King,  your  Keepers  be  slaine, 

and  lye  dead  on  a  rowe. 
there  came  a  knight  that  was  mightye, 
he  let  3  grayhounds  that  were  wightye, 

&  laid  my  fellowes  fall  lowe : " 


that  blew 
the  horn. 


Arradas  says 
he  wants 
such  a  man,. 


and  tells 
three  knights 
to  fetch  him. 


1096     he  sayd,  it  was  full  true 

that  the  same  that  the  home  blew 

that  all  this  sorrow  hath  wrought. 
King  Arradas  said  then, 
1100     "I  haue  great  need  of  such  of  a  man ; 
god  hath  him  hither  brought." 

the  King  commanded  Knights  3, 
he  said,  "  goe 4  feitch  yond  gentleman  to  me 
1104         that  is  now  at  his  play ; 

looke  noe  ill  words  w^'th  him  yee  breake, 
but  pray  him  with  me  for  to  speake ; 
I  trow  he  will  not  say  nay." 


1  One  stroke  of  the  n  missing  in  the 
MS.— F. 

2  maner. — Cop. 


3  Squiers,  knights. — Cop. 

4  MS.  god.— F. 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


119 


1108     Euerye  knight  his  steed  hent, 

&  lightlye  to  the  wood  l  the  went 

to  seeke  Tryamore  that  child, 
the  found  him  by  a  water  side 
1112     where  he  brake  the  beast  2  that  tyde, 
that  hart  that  was  soe  wylde. 

the  said,  "  Sir  !  god  be  at  yowr  game!  " 
he  answered  them  euen  the  same  ; 
1116         then  was  he  frayd  of  guile. 

"S^r  Knight  I  "  they  said,  "  is  itt  you?  will 
to  come  &  speake  our  King  vntill 

with  word[e]s  meeke  &  mylde  ?  "       [page  220] 

1120     Tryamore  asked  shortlye,3 

"  what  hight  your  King,  tell  yee  mee, 

that  is  lord  4  of  this  land  ?  " 
"  this  Land  hight  Arragon, 
1124     &  our  King,  Arradas,  with  crowne; 
his  place  his  heire  att  hand." 

Tryamore  went  viito  the  K\_ing,'] 
&  he  was  glad  of  his  cominge, 
1128         he  knew  him  att  first  sight ; 

the  King  tooke  him  by  the  hand, 
&  said,  "welcome  into  this  land  !  " 
&  asked  5  him  what  he  hight. 

11.32     "  S/r,  my  name  is  Tryamore  ; 
once  you  helpt  me  in  a  stowre 

as  a  noble  man  of  might ; 
&  now  I  am  here  in  thy  Land ; 
1136     soe  was  I  neuer  erst,  as  I  vnderstand, 
by  god  full  of  might." 


The  knights 


find 
Triamore, 


salute  him, 


and  ask  if  lie 
will  come  to 
their  king, 


Arradas  of 
Arragon. 


Triamore 
comes, 


Arradas 

welcomes 

him, 


and 

Triamore 
tells  him 
who  he  is. 


1  wodde. — Cop. 

2  The  top  of  some  letter  over  the  a  is 


marked  out  in  the 
"cut  up." — F. 


MS.     brake  means 


3  shortely, — Cop. 

4  There  is  a  round  blot  likfo  an  o  after 
the  r  in  the  MS.— F. 

5  axet. — Cop.  ' 


120 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


Arradas 
is  very  glad, 


and  tells 
Triamore 

of  the  day 
set  for  the 
fight  with  the 
Emperor's 
champion. 


Triamore 
agrees  to 
fight  for 
Arradas, 


of  which  the 
latter  is 
glad. 


when  the  'K.ing  wist  it  was  hee, 
his  hart  reioced  greatlye  ; 
1140         3  times  he  did  downe  fall, 

&  [said]  "  Tryamore,  welcome  to  me ! 
great  sorrowe  &  care  I  haue  had l  for  thee ; " 
and  he  told  him  al  ; 

1144     "  with  the  Emperour  1 2  tooke  a  day 
[to]  defend  me  if  that  I  may  ; 

to  lesu  I  will  call ; 
for  I  neuer  his  sonne  slew  ; 
1148     god  he  knoweth  I  speake  but  true, 
&  helpe  me  I  trust  he  shall !  " 

then  said  Tryamore  thoe,  ["I  am  fulle  woe3] 
that  you  for  me  haue  beene  greeued  soe, 
1152         if  I  might  it  amend; 
&  att  the  day  of  battell 
I  trust  to  proue  4  my  might  as  5  well, 
if  god  will  grace  me  send." 

1156     then  was  K.ing  Arradas  very  glad, 
and  of  Marradas  was  not  adread : 

when  he  to  the  batteile  shold  wend, 
he  ioyed  6  that  he  shold  well  speed, 
1160     for  Tryamore  was  warry  7  at  neede 
against  his  enemye  to  defend. 


On  the  day 
fixed,  the 
Emperor 


there  Tryamore  dwelled  w^th  the  ~King 
many  a  weeke  without  lettinge ; 
1164         he  lacked  right  nought. 

&  when  the  day  of  battayle  was  came, 
the  Emperour  w^th  his  men  hasted  full  soone, 
&  manye  wonder  thought ; 


1  Cop.  omits  had. — H. 

2  MS.  he.— F. 

*  prome,  in  the  MS. — F. 


5  This  word  is  blotted  in  the  MS.— I 
3  From  Ca.— F.       6  joyed.— Cop. 
7  ware. — Cop. 


SIR    THIAMORE. 


121 


1168     he  brought  thither  both  King  &  Knight ; 
&  Marradas,  that  was  of  might, 

to  batteille  he  him  brought, 
there  was  many  a  seemelye  man, 
1172     moe  then  I  tell  you  can ; 

of  them  all  he  ne  wrought. 


brings  his 
champion, 
Marradas ; 


both  partyes  that  ilke  day 
into  the  feeld  tooke  the  way, 
1176         they  were  already  l  dight. 

the  King  there  kissed  Tryamore, 
&  sayd,  "  I  make  thee  mine  [heyre  2]  this  hower, 
&  dubb  thee  a  knight." 


the  King 
brings 


Triamore, 


I  ISO     "  S/r,"  said  Tryamore,  "  take  no  dread  ; 
I  trust  lesus  will  me  speede, 

for  you  be  in  the  right ; 
therfore  through  gods  grace 
1184     I  will  fight  for  you  in  this  place 

with  the  helpe  of  our  Lords  might !  " 


Avho  trusts 
in  Christ's 
help. 


both  partyes  were  full  swore 
to  hold  the  promise  that  was  made  before ; 
1188         to  lesus  can  hee  3  call. 

S/r  Tryamore  &  Sir  Marradas 
both  well  armed  was 
amonge  the  Lords  all ; 


Both  parties 
swear  to 
abide  by  the 

result. 


1 192     eche  of  them  were  sett  on  steede ; 
all  men  of  Tryamore  had  dreede, 

that  was  soe  hind  in  all.4 
Marradas  was  stiffe  &  sure,5 
1196     their6  might  noe  man  his  stroake  endure, 
But  that  he  made  them  fall. 


Triamore 


and 
Marradas 


[page  227] 


1  al  redy. — Cop. 

2  heyre. — Cop. 

3  they.— Cop. 


4  Ther  was  none  so  hynde  in  halle. — Ca. 

5  so  styffin  stoure. — Ca. 

6  then.— Ca. 


122 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


charge, 


break  their 
spears  and 
shields, 


and  fight 
marvel 
lously. 


Triamore 
kills  Mar- 
radas's  horse, 


then  rode  they  together l  full  right ; 
w^th  sharpe  speres  &  swords  bright 
1200         they  smote  together  sore  ; 

the  spent  speres  &  brake  sheelds, 
the  busied  2  fowle  in  middest  the  feelds, 
either  fomed  as  doth  a  bore. 

1204     all  the  3  wondred  thai  beheld 
how  the  fought  in  the  feeld ; 

there  was  but  a  liffe.4 
Marradas  fared  fyer 5  wood 
1208     because  Tryamore  soe  long  stood ; 

sore  gan  hee  smite. 
S*r  Tryamore  fayled  of  Marradas, 
thai  sword  lighted  vpon  his  horsse, 
1212         the  sword  to  ground  gan  light. 

Marradas  said,  "  it  is  great  shame 
on  a  steed  to  wreake  his  game  ! 

thou  sholdest  rather  smite  mee  !  " 
1216     Tryamore  swore,  "by  gods  might 
I  had  leuer  it  had  on  thee  light ! 

then  I  wold  not  be  sorye  6  ; 

"  but  here  I  giue  thee  steede  mine 
1220    because  I  haue  slaine  thine ; 
by  my  will  it  shalbe  soe." 
Marradas  sayd,  "  I  will  [him]  nought 
till  I  haue  him  with  stroakes  bought," 
1224         [and  won  him  from  my  foe.7] 

&  Tryamore  lighted  from  his  horsse, 
&  to  Marradas  straight  he  goes, " 
Both  alight  for  both  on  foote  they  did  light. 


and  then 
offers  him 
his  own. 


Marradas 
refuses  it. 


1  the  longer. — Cop. 

2  powsed. — Cop. 
8  they.— Cop. 

4  ?  a  life  to  be  lost.— F.    lyte  (little). 
—Cop. 


5  fare. — Cop. 

6  sore. — Cop. 

7  ? ;  a  line  is  wanting  in  the  MS.  Cop. 
has  "And  wonne    hyra   here  in  fyght." 
— F. 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


123 


1228     Sir  Tryamore  spared  him  nought, 
[But  evyr  in  his  hert  he  thoght !] 
"  this  day  was  I  made  a  Knight !  " 

&  thought  that  hee  himselfe  wold  be  slaine  soone, 
1232     "  or  else  of  him  I  will  win  my  shoone  2 

throughe  gods  might." 
the  laid  eche  at  other  with  good  will 
with  sharpe  swords  made  of  steele  ; 
1236         that  saw  3  many  a  knight. 

great  wonder  it  was  to  behold 

the  stroakes  that  was  betwixt  them  soe  bold ; 

all  men  might  it  see. 

1240     the  were  weary,  &  had  soe  greatlye  bled ; 
Marradas  was  sore  adread, 

he  fainted  then  greatlye  ; 


and  fight  on 
foot 


fiercely. 


Marradaa 
grows  faint. 


&  that  Tryamore  lightlye  beheld, 
1244     &  fought  feerclye  in  the  feeld  ; 
he  stroke  Marradas  soe  sore 

that  the  sword  through  the  body  ran. 

then  was  the  Emperour  a  sorry  man  ; 
1248         he  made  thenn  peace  for  euer-more  ; 


Triamore 
kills  him. 

The 
Emperor 


he  kissed  the  Km^,  &  was  his  freind, 
&  tooke  his  leauee  homewards  to  wend 

noe  longer  there  dwell  wold  hee. 
1252     then  ~King  Arradas  &  Tryamore 

went  to  the  palace  with  great  honor, 

into  that  rych  citye. 
there  was  ioy  without  care, 
1256     &  all  they  had  great  welfare, 
there  might  no  better  bee  ; 


kisses 
Arradas, 

and  goes 
home. 


Arradas  ami 

Triamore 

return 

to  the  city, 


1  From  Ca. — F.     euer  in  hys  herte  he  thought. — Cop. 

2  See  p.  77,  1.  504.  3  sauce.— Cop. 


124 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


hunt,  ride, 
and  enjoy 
themselves. 


Arradas 
offers  to 
make 

Triamore  his 
heir, 

but  Triamore 
declines,  and 


asks  only  a 


he  means  to 
do  adven 
tures. 


Arradas 
gives  him 


money 


and  a  fearless 
steed, 


and  promises 
him  all 


his  realm. 
Triamore 


rides  to 
Hungary. 


they  hunted  &  rode  many  a  where, 
full  great  pleasure  they  had  there. 
1260         among  the  knights  of  price 

the  K.ing  profered  him  full  fayre, 
&  sayd,  "  Tryamore,  He  make  thee  mine  heyre, 
for  thou  art  strong  &  wise." 

1264     Sir  Tryamore  said,  "  S^'r,  trulye 
into  other  countryes  goe  will  I ; 

I  desire  of  you  but  a  steed, 
&  to  other  lands  will  I  goe 
1268     some  great  aduentures  for  to  doe, 

thus  will  I  my  lifle  lead." 
the  'King  was  verry  sorry  tho ; 
when  that  hee  wold  from  him  goe, 
1272         he  gaue  him  a  sure  weede,1 

&  plenty  of  siluer  &  gold, 
&  a  steed  as  hee  wold, 

that  nothing  wold  feare. 
1276     hee  tooke  his  leaue  of  the  King, 
And  mourned  at  his  departing, 
then  hasted  he  him  there ; 

the  ~King  sayd,  "  Tryamor  !  that 2  is  mine, 
1280     when  thou  list  it  shall  be  thine, 

all  my  kingdome  lesse  &  more." 

Now  is  Tryamore  forth  goe ; 

Lords  &  ladyes  were  full  woe,3 
1284         euerye  man  loued  him  there. 

Tryamore  rode  in  hast  trulye 
into  the  Land  of  Hungarye, 
aduentures  for  to  seeke.4 


[page  228] 


1  steede  is  marked  out  in  the  MS.- 

2  whatever,  all  that. — F. 

3  for  him  were  woe. — Cop. 


-F.  4  The     Cambridge    text    sends    him 

generally    everywhere    before   going  to 
Hungary. — F. 


SIR    T1UAMORE. 


1288     betweene  2  mountaines,  the  sooth  to  say, 
he  rode  forth  on  his  way ; 
w^th  a  palmer  he  did  meete  ; 


On  his  road 
a  palmer 


he  asked  almes  for  gods  sake, 
1292     &  Tryamore  him  not  forgate, 

he  gaue  him  with  words  sweete. 
the  palmer  said,  "  turne  yee  againe, 
or  else  I  feare  you  wilbe  slaine  ; 
1296         you  may  not  passe  but  you  be  beat." 


warns  him 
to  turn  back 


Tryamore  asked  "  why  soe  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  there  be  brethren  towc 

that  on  the  mouutaine  dwells." 

1300     "  faith,"  said  Tryamore,  "  if  there  be  no  more, 
I  trust  in  god  that  way  to  goe, 

if  this  be  true  that  thou  tells." 
he  bade  the  palmer  good  day, 
1304     &  rode  forth  on  his  way 
ouer  heath  &  feelds  ; 


for  fear  of 
two  brothers 
there. 


Triamorc 
rides  on, 


the  palmer  prayed  to  him  full  fast, 
Tryamore  was  not  agast, 
1308         he  blew  his  home  full  shrill, 
he  had  not  rydden  but  a  while, 
not  the  Mountenance  of  a  mile, 
2  knights  he  saw  on  a  hill : 


and  soon 
meets 


two  knights, 


1312     the  one  of  them  to  him  gan  ryde, 
they  other  still  gan  abyde 

a  litle  there  beside. 
&  when  the  did  Tryamore  spye, 

1316     the  said,  "  turne  thee  tray  tor,1  or  thou  shalt  dye, 
therfore  stand  &  abyde  !  " 


who  order 
him  to  go 
back. 


traytor  turne. — Cop. 


126 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


One  charges 
him, 


the  other 


either  againe  other  l  gan  ryd  fast, 
theire  strokes  mad  their  speres  to  brast, 
1320          &  made  them  wounds  full  wyde. 
the  other  'knight  that  honed2  soe, 
wondred  that  Tryamore  dared  soe  : 
he  rode  to  them  that  tyde 


separates 
them, 


asks 

Triamore 
his  name, 


1324      &  departed  them  in  twaine, 

&  to  speake  fayre  he  began  to  fraine 

with  words  that  sounded  well : 
to  Tryamore  he  3  sayd  anon, 
1328       "a  doughtyer  Knight  I  neuer  saw  none  !4 

thy  name  that  thou  vs  tell." 
Tryamore  said,  "  first  will  I  wett 
why  that  you  doe  keepe  this  street, 
1332          &  where  that  you  doe  dwell." 


and  says 
that  their 
brother 
Marradas 


was  slain  by 

one 

Triamore, 


1336 


the  said,  "  wee  had  a  brother  hight  Marradas, 
with  the  Emperour  forsooth  he  was, 

a  stronge  man  well  Lknow,5 
in  Arragon,  before  the  Emperour, 
a  knight  called  Sir  Tryamore 

in  battel  there  him  slew  6  ; 


and  their 
elder  brother 
Burlong  1340 


1344 


"  &  alsoe  wee  say  another, 
Burlong  7  our  elder  brother, 

as  a  man  of  much  might ; 
he  hath  beseeged  soothlye 
the  Kings  daughter  of  HUNGARYE  ; 

to  wed  her  he  hath  height ; 


1  other  than, — Cop,    ryd  has  a  tag  at 
the  end.— F. 

2  hoved,  i.e.  hovered  on  the  hill,  qu.— 
P.     Jtovcd  ia   common   in   the  sense  of 
halted.— F, 

8  they,— Cop. 


4'  &0  doughty  a  knight  knowe  I  none, 
—Cop. 

5  y'liough  (enough). — Ca. 

6  There  ia   something  like  another  f 
before  the  w  in  the  MS. — F. 

7  Burlonde.— Ca. 


SIR   TRIAMOKE. 


127 


1348 


"  &  soe  well  hee  hath  sped 
thai  hee  shall  thai  Lady  wedd 

but  shee  may  find  a  K.nighi 
thai  BUELONGE  ouercome  may  ; 
to  thai  they  haue  tooke  a  day, 

wage  battel  &  fight ; 


is  to  wed 
Queen  Helen 
of  Hungary 
unless  she 
can  find  a 
knight  to 
beat  him, 


"  for  thai  same  Tryamore 
1352     loued  thai  Ladye  paramoure, 

as  it  is  before  told  ; 
if  he  will  to  Hungarye, 
needs  must  he  come  vs  by  ; 
1356         to  meete  w/th  him  wee  wold." 


[page  229] 


and  she  is 

Triamore's 

love. 


They'd  like 
to  catch  him. 


1360 


Tryamore  said,  "  I  say  not  nay, 
but  my  name  I  will  tell  this  day, 

in  faith  I  will  not  Laine  : 
thinke  yo^tr  lourney  well  besett, 
for  with  Tryamore  you  haue  mett 

thai  jouv  brother  hath  slaine." 


Triamorc 
says 


1  here  he  is.' 


"  welcome  !  "  the  said,  "  Tryamore  ! 

1364     his  death  shalt  thou  repent  sore  ; 

thy  sorrow  shall  begin, 
yeeld  thee  to  vs  anon, 
for  thou  shalt  not  from  vs  gone 

1368         by  noe  manner  of  gin.1  " 


They  call  on 
him  to  yield. 


1372 


the  smote  feircly  att  him  tho, 
&  Tryamore  against  them  2 

w/thout  more  delay. 
S'ir  Tryamore  proued  him  full  prest, 
he  brake  their  spere  on  their  brest, 

hee  had  such  assay ; 


He  fights 
them, 


1  gynne. — Cop.    wile. — F. 


128 


SIR    TRIAMOBE. 


they  split 
his  shield 
and  kill  his 
horse, 


but  he  slays 
one  of  them. 


The  other 


rides  at  him, 


but  Tria- 
more  kills 
him  too. 


Helen 
wonders 
where 
Triamore  is. 


The  day  to 
win  her  is 
come; 


Burlong 
calls  for  her 
knight. 

She  has 
none. 


his  sheeld  was  broken  in  peeces  3, 
1376     his  horsse  was  smitten  on  his  knee, 

soe  hard  att  him  the  thrust.1 
Sir  Tryamore  was  then  right  wood, 
&  slew  the  one  there  as  he  stood 
1380         with  his  sword  full  prest. 

thai  other  rode  his  way, 
his  hart  was  in  great  affray, 

yet  he  turned  againe  that  tide, — 
1384     when  Tryamore  had  slaine  his  brother, 
a  sorry  man  then  was  the  other, — 
&  straight  againe  to  him  did  rydde ; 

then  they  2  sore  foughte 

1388     thai  the  other  to  the  ground  was  brought 
then  were  the  both  slaine. 

tho  the  Ladye  on  Tryamore  thought, 
for  of  him  shee  knew  right  nought, 
1392         shee  wist  not  what  to  say. 

the  day  was  come  that  was  sett, 
the  Lords  assembled  without  lett, 
all  in  good  array. 

1396     Burlonge  was  redye  dight, 

he  bade  the  Lady  send  the  ~K.night. 

shee  answered  "  I  ne  may :  " 
for  in  that  castle  shee  had  hight 
1400     to  keepe  her  with  all  her  might, 
as  the  story  doth  say. 

the  said,  "  if  Tryamore  be  aliue, 
hither  2  will  hee  come  blithe  ; 
1404         god  send  vs  good  grace  to  speed  !  " 


thrast. — Cop. 


2  MS.  either.— F. 


SIR    TRIAMORE. 


129 


with  thai  came  in  Sir  Tryamore 
in  the  thickest  of  thai  stower, 
into  the  feild  without  dread. 

1408     he  asked  'what  all  thai  did  meane.' 

the  people  shewed  thai  a  battel  there  shold  beenc 

for  the  loue  of  thai  Ladye. 
he  saw  BURLONG  on  his  steede, 
1412     &  straight  to  him  he  yeede  ; 
thai  Ladye  challengeth  hee. 


But  just 

then 

Triamorc 

rides  into 
the  field, 


goos  str.iif-'h 
to  Burloi  g, 


Burlong  asked  him  if  he  wold  fight. 
Tryamore  said,  "  w-ith  all  [my]  might 
1416         to  slay  thee,  or  thou  me." 
anon  the  made  them  readye, 
&  none  there  knew  him  sikerlye, 
the  wondred  what  he  shold  bee. 


mid  fays  he'll 
fight  him. 


1420     high  on  a  tower  stood  thai  good  Ladye ; 
shec  knew  not  what  JLnighi  verelyc 

thai  w/th  Burlong  did  fight, 
fast  shee  asked  of  her  men 
1424     'if  thai  ~Kni<jhi  they  cold  ken 
thai  to  battell  was  dight ; 

'  a  griifon  he  beareth  all  of  blew.' l 
a  herald  of  armes  soone  him  2  knew, 
1428         &  said  anon-right, 

"  Madame  !  god  hath  sent  you  succor ; 
for  yonder  is  Tryamore 

That  w/th  Burlong  will  fight." 

1432     to  lesus  gan  the  Ladye  pray 

for  to  speed  him  on  his  lourney 
that  hee  about  yeed. 


Helen 
•docs  not 
know  him ; 


hngc230] 


but  a  horalxl 
recognises 
his  crest, 


and  tells  her 
it  is 
Triamore, 


She  prays  for 
his  success. 


1  A  kreste  he  beryth  in  Wewe. — Ca. 
VOL.  II.  K 


2  Syr  Barnarde.— Ca. 


130 


SIR   TRIAMOEE. 


Triamore 
and  Burlong 
fight 


1440 


for  a  long 
while, 


till  Triamore 
loses  his 
sword. 


1444 


1448 


then  those  TLnights  ran  together, 

the  speres  in  peeces  gan  shiner, 

the  fonght  fall  sore  indeed  ; 

there  was  noe  man  in  the  feild  tho 
who  shold  haue  the  better  of  them  tow, 

soe  mightilye  they  did  them  beare. 
the  Battel  lasted  wonderous  long ; 
though  Burlong  was  neuer  soe  stronge, 

there  found  he  his  peere. 

Tryamore  a  stroke  to  him  mint,1 
his  sword  fell  downe  at  that  dint 

out  of  his  hand  him  froe. 
then  was  Burlong  verry  2  glad, 
&  the  Ladye  was  verry  sad, 

&  many  more  full  woe. 


He  asks  for 

it, 

and  Burlong 

agrees  to 

give  it  him 

if  he'll  tell 

his  name. 


Tryamore  asked  his  sword  againe, 
but  Burlong  gan  him  fraine 
1452         to  know  first  his  name  ; 

&  said,  "  tell  me  first  what  thou  hight, 
&  why  thou  challengeth  the  Ladye  bright, 
then  shalt  thou  haue  thy  sword  againe." 


Triamore 
tells  him. 


Burlong 
reproaches 
him  with 
killing 
Marradas 


1456     Tryamore  sayd,  "  soe  mote  I  thee, 
My  name  I  will  tell  trulye, 
therof  I  will  not  doubt ; 
men  call  me  Sir  Tryamore, 
1460     I  wan  this  Ladye  in  a  stowre 
among  Barrons  stout." 

then  said  Burlong,  "  thou  it  was 
that  slew  my  brother  Marradas  ! 
1464         a  faire  3  hap  thee  befell !  " 

1  mynt. — Cop.    minded,  meant,  intended. — F. 

2  wonder. — Cop.  3  ?  fowle, — F. 


SIR  TRIAMORE. 


131 


Sir  Tiyamore  sayd  to  him  tho, 
"  soe  haue  I  done  thy  Brethren  2 
that  on  the  Mountaines  did  dwell." 


1408      Burlong  said,  "  woe  may  thou  bee, 
for  thou  hast  slaine  my  brethren  3  ! 

sorrow  hast  thou  sought ! 
thy  sword  getts  thou  neuer  againe 
1472      till  I  be  avenged,  &  thou  slaine  ; 
now  I  am  well  bethought !  " 

Sir  Tryamore  sayd,  "  noe  force  l  tho, 
thou  shalt  repent  it  ere  thou  goe  ; 
147G  doe  forth  !     I  dread  thee  nought !  " 

Burlong  to  smite  was  readye  bowne, 
his  feete  slipt,2  &  hee  fell  downe, 
&  Tryamore  right  well  nought,3 

1480      his  sword  lightlye  he  vp  hent, 
&  to  Burlonge  fast  he  went ; 
for  nothing  wold  he  flee  ; 
&  as  lie  wold  haue  risen  againe, 
1484      he  smote  his  leggs  euen  in  twaine 
hard  fast  by  the  knee. 


and  Iris  other 
brothers, 


and  refuses 
to  let  him 
have  his 
sword. 


Burlong 
makes  ready 
to  strike ;  his 
foot  slips, 
and  he  falls. 


Triamore 
gets  his 
sword  again, 


cuts  big 
Bin-long  oft 
tit  the  knees, 


Tryamore  bade  him  "  stand  vpright, 
&  all  men  may  see  now  in  fight 
1488  wee  beene  meete  of  a  size." 

Sir  Tryamore  suffered  him 
to  take  another  weapon, 
as  a  knight  of  much  prize. 

1492      Burlong  on  his  stumpes  stood 
as  a  man  that  was  nye  wood, 
&  fought  wonderous  hard.4 


to  make  him 
his  equal  in 
height, 


and  lets  him 
get  a  sword. 


Burlong 
fights  well 
on  his 
stumps, 


1  matter. — F. 

2  his  fote  schett,— Ca. 


3  wylyly  wrought. — Ca. 

4  wonder  faste. — Cop. 

K2 


wrought. — Cop. 


132 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


&  S*r  Tryamore  strake  stroakes  sure, 
1496      for  lie  cold  well  endure  ; 

of  him.  hee  was  not  affrayd, 


but 

Triamore 
cuts  his  head 
off, 


1500 


&  vnder  his  ventale 
his  head  he  smote  of  without  fayle  ; 
w^th  that  in  peeces  his  sword  brast. 


and  goes  to 
his  love. 


Helen 


1504 


UTow  is  Burlong  slaine, 
&  Triamore  with,  maine 

into  the  Castle  went, 
to  the  Ladye  that  was  full  bright ; 
&  att  the  gates  shee  mett  the  ~Knight, 

&  in  her  armes  shee  him  hent. 


welcomes 
him. 


The  barons 
agree  to  hold 
their  lands 
of  him, 


Shee  said,  "  welcome  sir  Tryamore  ! 

1508      for  you  haue  bought  my  loue  full  deere, 

my  hart  is  on  you  lent!  " 
then  said  all  the  Barrens  bold, 
"  of  him  wee  will  our  lands  hold  ;  " 

1512          &  therto  they  did  assent. 


[page  23 


and  the 

wedding-day 

infixed. 


Triamore          1516 
sends  for  his 
mother, 


there  is  noe  more  to  say, 

but  they  haue  taken  a  certaine  day 

that  they  both  shalbe  wed. 
S^r  Tryamore  for  his  mother  sent, 
a  Messenger  for  her  went, 

&  into  the  castle  he[r]  led. 


and  she 
tells  him 
that  King 
Arradas  is 
his  father, 


Tryamore  to  his  mother  gan  saine, 
1520      "  my  father  I  wold  know  faine, 

sith  I  haue  soe  well  sped." 
shee  said,  "  ~King  Array  das  of  Arragon, 
is  thy  father,  &  thou  his  owne  sonne ; 
1524          I  was  his  wedded  Queene  ; 


SIR   TRIAMORE, 


133 


1528 


"  a  leasing  was  borne  me  in  hand,1 
&  falsely  fleamed  me  out  of  his  land 

by  a  traitor  Keene, 

Sir  Marrockee  the  hight 2  :   he  did  me  woe, 
&  Sir  Rodger  my  knight  he  did  sloe, 

thai  my  guide3  shold  haue  beene." 


that  she  was 

banished 

wrongfully, 


through  Sir 
Marrock. 


&  when  that  Tryamore  all  heard,4 
1532      &  how  his  mother  shee  had  5  sayd, 
letters  he  made  &  wrought; 

he  prayd  King  Arradas  to  come  him  till, 

if  that  it  were  his  will, 
1536          thus  he  him  besought : 


Triamorc 


writes  and 

begs 

Arradas 


1540 


<  if  hee  will  come  into  HuNGARYii 
for  his  Manho  od  &  his  Masterye, 

&  thai  he  wold  fayle  in  nought.' 
them  was  King  Arradas  verry  glad  ; 
the  Messengers  great  guifts  had 

for  they  tydings  that  they  brought. 


to  come  to 
Hungary. 


the  day  was  come  that  was  sett, 
1544      the  "Lords  came  thither  without  let, 
&  ladycs  of  great  pryde  ; 

then  wold  they  noe  longer  lett ; 

shortlye  after  6  they  are  fett, 
1548  with  2  dukes  on  euerye  side  ; 


On  the 
wedding- 
day, 


1552 


they  lady  to  the  church  the  led  ; 
a  Bishopp  them  together  did  wed, 

in  full  great  hast  the  hyed. 
soone  after  that  weddinge 
Sir  Tryamore  was  crowned  King, 

they  wold  noe  longer  abyde. 


Qtioon  Helen 
is  married  to 
Triaiuore, 


who  is  then 

crowned 

king. 


1  forced  on  me. — F. 

2  ?  the  wight.— F. 


3  gyder.— Cop. 

4  herde. — Cop. 


4  to  him.— Cop. 

6  after  forthe. — Cop, 


134 


SIR   TRIAMORE. 


Arradas  sees 
Margaret, 


and  asks  her 
what  her 
name  is. 


She  says  she 
was  his 
queen,  and 
Marrock 
defamed  her. 


the  Queene,  his  mother  Margarett, 
1556      before  the  "King  shee  was  sett 

in  a  goodlye  cheare.1 
'K.ing  Arradas  beheld  his  Queene, 
him  thought  thai  hee  had  her  seene, 
1560          shee  was  a  ladye  fayre  ; 

the  ~King  said,  "  it  is  jour  will 
jour  name  me  for  to  tell, 

I  pray  you  w^th  words  fayre." 

1564      "  my  Lord,"  sayd  [she,]  "  I  was  jour  Queene  ; 
jour  steward  did  me  ill  2  teene  ; 
thai  euill  might  him  befalle  !  " 
the  ~King  spake  noe  more  words 
After  dinner   1568      ^  faQ  c]othes  were  drawen  from  the  bords, 

&  men  rose  in  the  hall. 
&  by  the  hand  he  tooke  the  Queene  gent ; 
soe  in  the  chamber  forth  he  went, 
1572  &  there  shee  told  him  all. 

then  was  there  great  Toy  &  blisse  ! 
when  they  together  gan  kisse, 

then  all  they  companye  made  loy  enough. 
1576      the  younge  Queene  [was]  full  glad 

thai  shee  a  ~K.ings  sonne  to  her  Lord  had, 

shee  was  glad,  I  trowe  ; 

in  loy  together  lead  their  liffe 
1580      all  their  dayes  without  striffe, 
&  liued  many  a  fayre  yeere. 

Then  king  Arradas  &  his  Queene  [page  232] 

had  ioy  enough  them  betweene, 
1584  &  merrilye  3  liued  together. 


she  tells  him 
all  her 
history. 


They  kiss, 
and  all 
rejoice. 


Helen  is 
glad  too, 


and  both 
couples  live 
long  and 
happily. 


1  For   the  preceding  half-stanza  the 
Cambridge  text  has  a  whole  one  : 

Ye  may  welle  wete  certeynly 
That  there  was  a  great  mangery, 
There  as  so  many  WP re  mett : 


Qwene  Margaret  began  the  deyse  ; 
Kyng  Ardus  wyth-owtyn  lees, 
Be  hur  was  he  sett. — F. 

2  mekyll.— Cop. 
8  merely. — Cop. 


SIR  TRIAMORE.  135 

&  thus  wee  leaue  of  Tryamore  Good  bye, 

.,     .   , .       T  ,  .  Triamore! 

thai  liued  long  in  great  honor 

with  the  fayre  HELLENE.1 
1588      I  pray  god  glue  their  soules  good  rest, 
&  all  thai  haue  heard  this  litle  lest,2 

highe  heauen  for  to  win  ! 
god  grant  vs  all  to  haue  thai  grace, 

God  send  all 

1592      him  tor  to  see  in  the  celestyall  place  !  my  hearers 

to  heaven ! 

I  pray  you  all  to  say  Amen  !  Amen  i 

ffins.8 


1  Elyno. — Cop.  printed  at  London  in  Temos  stroto  vpow 

2  Gcst.     P.O.— P.     gest— Cop.  the   thro  Crane  wharfe.     By  Wyllyam 

3  Copland's    colophon    is,   "  €1    Im-       Copland." — F. 


136 


&  gmarant3 

[See  the  General  Introduction  to  the  Guy  Poems,  under  Guy  $  Colebrande  below.] 


Guy  jour 
neys  in  the 
Holy  Land, 


and  meets 
a  woeful 
man, 

whose  fifteen 
sons  are  held 
in  bondage 
by 


the  giant 
Amarant. 


Guy  under 
takes  to  free 
them, 


1-2 


16 


and  knocks 
loudly  at  the 
giant's  door.      20 


iourneyed  ore  the  sanctifyed  ground 
wheras  the  lewes  fayre  citye  someti[me]  stood, 
wherin  our  sa\dours  sacred  head  was  crowned, 

&  where  for  sinfull  man  he  shed  his  blood. 
to  see  the  sepulcher  was  his  intent, 
the  tombe  thai  loseph  vnto  lesus  lent. 


tedious  miles  he  tyred  his  wearye  feet, 
&  passed  desarts  places  2  full  of  danger; 

att  last  w^th  a  most  woefull  wight  did  meet, 
a  man  3  thai  vnto  sorrow  was  noe  stranger, 

for  he  had  15  sonnes  made  captiues  all 

to  slauish  4  bondage,  in  extremest  thrall. 

A  gyant  called  Amarant  detained  them, 

whom  noe  man  durst  encounter  for  his  strenght, 

who,  in  a  castle  which  he  held,  had  chaind  them. 
Guy  questions  w[h]ere,5  &  vnderstands  at  lenght 

the  place  not  fair.    "  lend  me  thy  sword,"  quoih  Guy  ; 

"  He  lend  my  manhood  all  thy  sonnes  to  free." 

"W^'th  that  he  goes  &  layes  vpon  the  dore 

like  one,  he  sayes,  thai  must  &  will  come  in. 
the  Gyant,  he  was  neere  soe  rowzed  before, 


1  By  the  elegance  of  Language  & 
easy  Flow  of  the  versification,  this  Poem 
should,  be  more  modern  than  the  rest. 
— P.  The  first  bombastic  rhodomontade 
affair  in  the  book.  Certainly  modern, 
and  certainly  bad,  as  bad  as  it  well  can 
be,  if  it  was  meant  seriously.  One  is 
tempted  in  charity  to  think  it  a  quiz  of 


the  style  it  affects.  Cp.  st,  31,  "but 
did  not  promise  you  they  should  be  fatt." 
1.  186.— F.  2  desart-p[laces].— P. 

3  called  Erie  Jonas,  p.  253  [of  MS. 
torn  out  for  King  Estmere]. — P. 

4  There  are  two  strokes  in  MS.  after 
the  u,  one  is  dotted. — F. 

5  where.— P. 


GUYE    AND    AMAKANT. 


137 


for  noe  such  knocking  at  his  gate  had  bcene  ; 
soe  takes  his  keyes  &  club,  &  goeth  out, 
24    Staring  with  irefull  countenance  about : 


Amarant 


28 


"  Sirra  !  "  sais  hee,  "  what  busines  hast  thou  hccre  ? 

art  come  to  feast  my  crowes  about  the  walls  l  ? 
didst  2  neuer  heare  noe  ransome  cold  him  cleere 

thai  in  the  compas  of  my  furye  falls  3  ? 
for  making  me  to  take  a  porters  paines, 
with  this  same  club  I  will  dash  out  thy  braines." 


nhtl  says 
he'll  dash 
Guy's  braiiM 
out. 


"  Gyant,"  saies  Guy,  "your  quarrelsome,  I  see  ; 

choller  &  you  are  something  nccre  of  Kin ; 
dangerous  at  a  club  be-like  you  bee ; 

I  haue  beene  better  armed,  though  now  goe  th[in.] 
but  shew  thy  vtmost  hate,  enlarge  thy  spite  ! 
heere  is  the  wepon  thai  must  doe  me  right." 


Guy  answers 


that  his 
swonl  will 
right  him, 


40 


Soe  takes  his  sword,  salutes  [him4]  with  the  same 
about  the  head,  the  shoulders,  &  the  sides, 

whilest  his  erected  club  doth  death  proclaime, 
standing  with  huge  Collossous  spacious  strydes, 

putting  such  vigor  to  his  knotted  beame 

that  like  a  furnace  he  did  smoke  extreme. 


and  attacks 
the  giant, 


•who  strikes 

fierce 

strokes, 


But  on  the  ground  he  spent  his  stroakes  in  vaine, 
44        for  Guy  was  nimble  to  avoyde  them  still, 

&  ere  he  cold  recouers  5  clubb  againe, 

did  beate  his  plated  coatc  against  his  will : 

att  such  aduantage  Guy  wold  neuer  fayle 
48    to  beate  him  soundly  in  his  coate  of  Mayle. 


which  Guy 
avoids, 


and  hacks  at 
the  giant. 


1  wall.— P. 

2  ?  MS.  didest  or  the  c  has  been  altered 
into  part  of  the  s. — JF. 

3  fall.— P. 


4  him  with.— P. 

5  There's  an  apostrophe  in  recent  ink 
over  the  s  in  the  MS. — F. 


138 


GUYE   AND   AMAKANT. 


Amarant 
grows  faint, 


and  asks 
Guy  to  let 
him  drink  at 
a  spring. 


Guy  gives 
him  leave. 


Att  last  through  strength,  Amarant 1  feeble  grew, 

&  said  to  Guy,  "  as  thou  art  of  humane  race, 
shew  itt  in  this,  giuee  nature  2  wants  her  dew ; 
52        let  me  but  goe  &  drinke  in  younder  place  ; 
thou  canst  not  yeeld  to  3  [me]  a  smaller  thing 
then  to  grant  life  thats  giuen  by  the  spring." 

"  I  giue  the  leaue,"  sayes  Guy,  "  goe  drinke  thy  4  last, 
56        to  pledge  the  dragon  &  the  savage  beare,5 

suceed  the  tragedyes  that  they  haue  past ; 

but  neuer  thinke  to  drinke  6  cold  water  more  7  ; 

drinke  deepe  to  death,  &  after  that  carrouse 
60    bid  him  receiue  thee  in  his  earthen  house." 

Soe  to  the  spring  he  goes,  &  slakes  his  thirst, 

takeing  in  8  the  water  in,  extremly  like 
Some  wracked  shipp  that  on  some  rocke  is  burst,  [P.  2333 
64        whose  forced  bulke  against  the  stones  doe  stryke  ; 
Scoping  it  in  soe  fast  with  both  his  hands 
that  Guy,  admiring,  to  behold  him  stands. 

"  Come  on,"  quoth  Guy,  "  lets  to  our  worke  againe  ; 
68        thou  stayest  about  thy  liquor  ouer  longe  ; 
the  fish  which  in  the  riuer  doe  remaine 

will    want    thereby ;     thy 9   drinking    doth    them 

wrong ; 

but  I  will  [have]  their  10  satisfaction  made ; 
72    w^th  gyants  blood  the  must  &  shall  be  payd !  " 

The  giant  "Villaine,"  quoth  Amarant,  "He  crush  thee  straight ! 

thy  life  shall  pay  thy  daring  toungs  offence ! 
this  club,  which  is  about  some  hundred  waight, 


Amarant 
drinks  so 
greedily 


that  Guy 
\vonders. 

He  calls  on 
Amarant  to 
fight  again. 


1  the  strength  of  A:   or  thro'  lacke 
of  strath  he. — P.     This  circumstance 
seems  borrowed  from  song  104.  p.  349, 
[of  MS.  Guy  $  Colebrande].—^ 

2  An  's  has  been  added  by  P.  in  the 
MS.— F. 

8  unto.— P. 


4  One  stroke  too  many  for  thy  in  the 
MS.— F. 

boar.  Qu.— P. 

Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 
here,  Qu.,  or  mair. — P. 
delend.— P. 

MS.  their.— F.     thy.— P. 
"  have  their.— P, 


GUYE    AND    AMABANT. 


139 


76         has  deathes  commission  to  dispactli l  thee  hence  ! 
dresse  thee  for  Rauens  dyett,  I  must  needs, 
&  breake  thy  bones  as  they  were  made  of  reeds  !  " 

Incensed  much  att 2  this  bold  Pagans  bosts, 
80         which  worthy  Guy  cold  ill  endure  to  heare, 

he  hewes  vpon  those  bigg  supporting  postes 
which  like  2  pillars  did  his  body  beare. 

Amarant  for  those  wounds  in  choller  growes, 
84     &  desperatelye  att  guy  his  club  he  throwes, 

Which  did  directlye  on  his  body  light 

soe  heauy  &  soe  weaghtye  3  there  withall, 
thai  downe  to  ground  on  sudden  came  the  'Knight ; 
88         &  ere  he  cold  recouer  from  his  fall, 
the  gyant  gott  his  club  againe  in  his  fist, 
&  stroke  a  blow  that  wonderfullye  mist. 

"  Traytor  !  "  qwoth  Guy,  "  thy  falshoocl  He  repay, 
92         this  coward  art  to  intercept  my  bloode." 

sayes  Amarant,  "  He  murther  any  way  ; 
with  enemy es,  all  vantages  are  good  ; 

o  !  cold  I  poyson  in  thy  nostrills  blowe, 
96     be  sure  of  it,  I  wold  destroy  the  soe  !  " 

"  Its  well,"  said  Guy,  "  thy  honest  thoughts  appear 

within  that  beastlye  bulke  where  devills  dwell, 
which  are  thy  tennants  while  thou  liuest  heere, 
100         but  wilbe  landlords  when  thou  comest  in  hell. 
Vile  miscreant !  prepare  thee  for  their  den  ! 
Inhumane  monster,  hurtfull  vnto  men  ! 


says  he'll 
break  Guy's 
bones. 


Guy  hews 
away  at 
Amaraut's 
legs; 


he  throws  his 
club  at  Guy, 


and  knocks 
him  down. 


Guy  re 
proaches 
him  for 
ffehting 
unfairly, 


"  But  breath  thy  selfe  a  time  while  I  goe  driiikc, 
104         for  flameing  Pheabus  with  his  fyerye  eye 
torments  me  soe  with  burning  heat,  I  thinke 


.and  asks 
leave  to 
drink. 


1  Here  again  is  the  cthfo?  tch,  noticed 
iu  vol.  i.  p.  23,  note  '. — F, 


2  MS.  all.— F.     att  this.— P. 

3  weightye. — P. 


140 


GTJYE    AND    AM  A  RANT. 


my  thirst  wold  seme  to  drinke  an  Ocean  drye. 
forbear  a  litle,  as  I  delt  with  thee." 
108     Q^oth  Amarant,  "  thou  hast  noe  foole  of  mee  ! 


Amarant 
refuses :  he 
is  not  such  a 
fool 


as  to  refresh 
his  foe. 


Amarant 
swings  his 
club  round, 


and  promises 
to  kill  Guy 


and  drink 
his  blood. 


Guy  abuses 
the  giant, 


sillye  wretch  !  my  father  taught  more  • 
how  I  shold  vse  such  enemyes  as  thou. 
by  all  my  gods  !  I  doe  reioyce  at  itt, 
112         to  vnderstand  thai  thirst  constraines  thee  now 
for  all  the  treasure  that  the  world  containes, 
one  drop  of  water  shall  not  coole  thy  vaynes. 

"  Beleeue  my  foe  !  why,  twere  a  madmans  part ! 
116         refresh  an  aduersarye,  to  my  wronge  ! 

if  thou  imagine  this,  a  child  thou  art. 

no,  fellow !  I  haue  knowne  the  world  to  longe 

to  be  soe  simple  now  I  know  thy  want ; 
120     a  Minutes  space  to  thee  I  will  not  grant." 

And  w^th  these  words,  heauing  a-loft  his  club 

into  the  ayre,  he  swinges  the  same  about, 
then  shakes  his  lockes,  &  doth  his  temples  rubb, 
124         &  like  the  Cyclops  in  his  pride  doth  strout }  ; 
"  Sirra,"  said  hee,  "  I  haue  you  at  a  lifte  ; 
now  you  are  come  vnto  your  latest  shift ; 

"  Perish  for  euer  w^'th  this  stroke  I  send  thee, 
128         a  Medcine  will  doe  thy  thirst  much  good  ; 

take  noe  more  care  of  drinke  before  I  end  thee, 
&  then  weelle  haue  carowses  of  thy  blood ! 

heeres  at  thee  w^'th  a  buchers  downe-right  blow, 
132     to  please  my  fury  w^th  thine  ouerthrow  !  " 

"  Infe[r]nall,  false,  obdurat  feend!  "  Guy  said,2 
"  thai  seemes  a  lumpe  of  crueltye  from  hell ! 
ingratefull  monster  !  since  thou  hast  denyd  3 


1  Strowt  yn,  or  bocyn  owte  (bowtyn, 
S.)  Turgeo,  Catholicon,  Prompt.— F. 


2  cryd;  [or]  perhaps,  '  said  Guy.' — P 

3  dost  deny. — P. 


GUYE    AND    AMARANT.  141 

136         the  thing  to  mee  whorin  I  vscd  thcc  [well,1] 
with  more  reuenge  then  ere  my  sword  did  make, 
On  thy  accursed  head  revenge  He  take  !  [pngo  234] 


Thy  gyants  longitude  shall  shorter  shrinke, 


140         except  thy  sunscorcht  sckin  doe  weapon  prone.2         bids  the 

streams  keep 

farwell  my  thirst !  I  doe  disdaine  to  drinkc.  their^wa-ters 

streames,   keepe   you[r]    waters    to   you[r]     ownc   selves, 

behoues,3 

or  let  wild  beasts  be  welcome  therunto  ; 
144     with  those  pearle  dropps  I  will  not  haue  to  doc. 


"  Hold,  tyrant !   take  a  tast  of  my  good  will ; 

for  thus  I  doe  begin  my  bloody e  bout ; 

you  cannot  chuse  but  like  the  greeting  ill, — 

148         it  is  not  thai  same  club  will  bearc  you  out, — 

strikes 

&  take  this  payment  on  thy  snaffgye  crowne,  Amarant, 

1    J  fetches  him 

a   blow    that   brought     him   with   a   vengeance  down, 

dow[ne]. 


Then  Guy  sett  foot  vpon  the  monsters  brest, 
152         &  from  his  shoulders  did  his  head  devyde, 

which  with  a  yawninge  mouth  did  gape  vnblest, — 
noe  dragons  lawes  were  euer  scene  soe  wyde 

to  open  &  to  shut, — till  liffe  was  spent. 
156    soe  Guy  tooke  Keyes,  &  to  the  castle  went, 

Where  manye  woefull  captiues  he  did  find,  sets  free  his 

1       _  €  captives,— 

which  had  beene  tyred  with  extremitye, 
whom  he  in  ffreindly  manner  did  vnbind, 
160         &  reasoned  with  them  of  their  miserye. 
eche  told  a  tale  with  teares  &  sighes  &  cryes, 
all  weeping  to  him  with  complainning  eyes. 

1  well. — P.  2  be  weapon-proof.— P.  3  behoof P. 


142 


GUYE   AND   AMARANT. 


who  had 
been  fed  on 
their  dead 
lovers  and 
husbands, — 


and  the 
palmer's 
fifteen  sons, 


some,  ladies  There  tender  Laidyes  in  darke  dungeon l  lay, 

164        that  were  surprised  in  the  desart  wood, 
&  had  noe  other  dyett  euerye  day 

then  flesh  of  humane  creatures  for  their  food  ; 
some  with  their  louers  bodyes  had  beene  fed, 
168    &  in  their  wombes  2  their  husbands  buryed. 

Now  he  bethinkes  him  of  his  being  there, 

to  enlarge  they 3   wronged   Brethren   from 4   their 

w[oes ;] 

&  as  he  searcheth,  doth  great  clamors  heare ; 
172        by  which  sad  sounds  direction,  on  he  goes 
vntill  he  findes  a  darkesome  obscure  gate, 
armed  strongly  ouer  all  w^th  Iron  plate  : 


That 5  he  vnlockes,  and  enters  where  appeares 
176        the  strangest  obiect  that  he  euer  saw, 

men  that  with  famishment  of  many  yeerres 

will 6  were  like  deaths  picture,  which  the  painters 

dra[w ;] 

diuers  of  them  were  hanged  by  eche  thumbe  ; 
180   others,  head  downeward  ;  by  the  middle,  summe.7 

With  dilligence  he  takes  them  from  the  walls, 
w^'th  lybertye  their  thraldome  to  accquainte. 

then  the  perplexed  Knight  the  father  calls, 

&  sayes,  "  receiue  thy  sonnes,  thoe  poore  &  faint ! 

I  promised  you  their  Hues  ;  eccept  of  that 8 ; 

but  did  not  promise  you  the  shold  be  fatt. 


who  were 
like  the 
pictures  of 
Death. 


Guy  restores 

the  palmer 

his  sons,  ]  84 


gives  him 
the  giant's 
castle, 


"  The  castle  I  doe  giue  thee, — heere  is  the  Keyes, — 

where  tyranye  for  many  yeeres  did  dwell ; 
procure  the  gentle  tender  Ladyes  ease ; 


1  Only  half  of  the  first  n  in  the  MS. 
— F. 

2  ?  MS.  wombers. — F. 

3  the.— P. 

4  There  is  something  like  a  blotched  o      — 
before  the  r  in  the  MS.— F. 


5  Then.— P. 

6  delend.— P. 

7  some. — P.     The  e,  and  last  stroke  of 
the  m,  have  been  cut  off  byxthe  binder. 


8  accept  of  that— P. 


GUYE   AND    AMARANT. 


143 


for  pittye  sake  vse  wronged  women  well ! 

men  may  easily e  revenge  the  deeds  men  doe, 

192    but  poore  weake  women  haue  no  strenght  therto." 

The  good  old  man,  euen  ouerioyed  with  this, 

fell  on  the  ground,  &  wold  haue  kist  Guys  fee[t.] 
"father,"  qiioth  hee,  "  refraine  soe  base  a  kisse  ! 
196        for  age  to  honor  youth,  I  hold  vnmeete  ; 
ambitious  pryd  hath  hurt  me  all  it  can, 
T  goe  to  mortino  a  sinfull  man."         ffins. 


and  charges 
him  to  use 
the  women 
well. 


Guy  refuses 
to  let  the 
palmer  kiss 
his  feet. 


i44 


THE  allusions  in  these  lines  are  principally  to  well-known 
incidents  in  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  most  of  which  occurred 
between  1625  and  1630. 

"  Gales,"  of  course,  means  "  Cadiz ; "  and  the  expeditions  of 
Viscount  Wimbledon  to  that  place  in  1625,  of  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham  to  Ehe  in  1627,  and  of  the  Earl  of  Denbigh  to 
Eochelfe  in  1628 — all  failures — are  commemorated  in  lines  1,  2, 
and  3.  Line  4  alludes  to  the  grant  of  five  subsidies  made  on 
the  concession  of  the  Petition  of  Eight ;  lines  6,  8,  and  9,  refer 
to  the  death  of  Buckingham.  The  peace  with  Spain,  mentioned 
in  line  7,  was  proclaimed  on  the  5th  of  December,  1630.  Lines  9 
to  12  commemorate  the  recent  passing  of  the  Petition  of  Eight, 
which  took  place  on  the  5th  of  June,  1628.  Of  lines  17  to  24  I 
take  the  meaning  to  be :  "  Do  not  meddle  with  the  hierarchy  for 
fear  of  the  Inquisition,  that  is,  the  Star  Chamber,  where  thou 
shalt  find  a  crop-ear  doom,  cries  Leighton."  The  allusion  is  to  the 
dreadful  sentence  inflicted  on  Dr.  Alexander  Leighton,  a  portion 
of  which  was  that  he  should  have  "  one  of  his  ears  cut  off,  and 
his  nose  slit,  and  be  branded  in  the  face."  (State  Trials,  vol.  iii. 
p.  385.) 

Line  25  alludes  to  the  King's  commission  for  extracting  fines 
from  those  who,  having  40£.  a  year  in  lands,  did  not  attend  at  the 
coronation  to  be  knighted.  Lines  26  to  30  refer  to  the  case  of 
Walter  Long,  sheriff  of  Wilts,  who  was  fined  2,000  marks  for 
absenting  himself  from  his  county  to  attend  his  duty  in  parlia 
ment.  (State  Trials,  vol.  iii.  p.  235.) 

1  A  kind  of  State  Satire  on  the  abuses  in  Charles  1s*  time — very  obscure. — -P. 


CALES    VOYAGE.  145 

Lines  33  to  37  relate  to  a  speech  of  Sir  Dudley  Carleton  in  the 
House  of  Commons  in  1628,  in  which  he  warned  the  House  of 
the  fate  of  parliaments  in  foreign  countries,  where  they  had  been 
overthrown  by  monarchs  as  soon  as  they  began  to  know  their 
own  strength.  Hence,  he  continued,  the  misery  of  the  people  on 
the  continent,  who  look  like  ghosts  and  not  men,  being  nothing 
but  skin  and  bones,  with  some  thin  cover  to  their  nakedness,  and 
wearing  only  wooden  shoes  on  their  feet.  JRushworth,  vol.  i. 
p.  359.  Whitelocke  substitutes  "  canvas  clothes  "  for  the  thin 
covering,  p.  6.  Both  agree  in  the  wooden  shoes. 

The  allusion  in  the  closing  lines,  39  and  40,  is  to  the  Lord 
Chief  Justice  Tresilian,  in  the  reign  of  Richard  II.  He  was  one 
of  that  King's  evil  advisers,  was  impeached  by  parliament,  found 
guilty  of  treason,  and  hanged  at  Tyburn  1 — which  may  be  said  to 
be  the  moral  of  this  poem.  J.  BRUCE. 


ATT  cales  wee  latelye  made  afray,  Wve  been 

att  He  of  Ree  »  wee  nm  away,  JgJ^ 

our  shippes  poore  Rochell  did  betray.  left> 

4  5  subsiddyes  for  that,  but  give  us 

five  subsidies 

And  then  wee  shall  to  sea  againe,  and  we'll 

11    ,7        o  -M  ,    .  fight  again. 

all  that 6  our  generall  was  slaine, 
&  now  wee  haue  made  peace  with  spaine, 
8  lacke  ffellton  ! 

Sir  Artigall  grand  Torto  4  slew- ;  [page  235] 

now  euerye  man  must  have  his  dew 

We've  a  new 

by  vertue  ot  a  gracious  new  Petit  on  of 

Right. 

12  Petition  of  right.  what  a 

blessing! 

1  See  Political  Poems  and  Songs,  ed.  de  la  Eochelle."    Paris,  1629.— F. 
Wright,  vol.  i.  p.  423,  460.  3  Altho'  or  Albeit.— P. 

2  See  Marc  Lescarbot's    "La   chasse  *  See  Spencer's  Fairy  Queen. — P. 
anx  Anglois  en  1'Isle  de  Eez  et  an  Siege 

VOL.    II.  L 


146 


CALES   VOYAGE. 


Don't  talk 
of  Pope 
John's 
children, 


or  the 
Inquisition 
will  eaten 
hold  of  you. 


Don't  leave 
your  county 
when  you're 
Sheriff. 


The  child  of  honor  did  deffye 
In  mortall  fight  his  enemye, 
&  when  he  came  to  doe  him  dye, 
16  cryes  Sail :  Brooke. 

Eleuen  children  had  Pope  lohn, 
Pope  lohn  the  twelft,  an  able  man ; 
heeres  to  the  daffe,  He  pledge  the  don, 
20  A  pulpitt  of  sacke ! 

Nbe  more  of  thai,,  doe  not  presume, 
ffor  ffeare  of  the  Inquisition  at  Home, 
where  thou  shalt  find  a  cropeare  dome, 
24  Cryes  Layston. 

Ten  poundes  for  not  being  made  a  JLnighi  ; 
fnue  thousand  Markes  was  deemed  right 
for  being  out  of  his  countryes  sight 
28  In  time  o  Shreaualltrye. 

These  &  such  like,  as  I  you  tell, 
In  fayrye  land  latelye  befell, 
where  lustice  ffought  w^'th  lustice  Cell 
32  Att  Grloster. 


Be  dutiful, 
or  else  you'll 
turn  French 
men,  and 
have  to  wear 
wooden 
shoes. 


Be  dutifull,  good  people  all, 
the  gouerment  else  alter  shall, 
&  bring  you  to  the  state  of  Graule, 
36  Haire  shirts  &  woodden  shooes  ! 


Hang  bad 
counsellors. 


habeas  corpus  shall  be  gott ; 
but  for  all  this  damned  plott 
Tresilian  went  vnto  the  pott 
40  Att  Tyburne !  fins. 


14' 


Hfnge 


THIS  copy  is  given  in  the  Reliques  "  with  corrections,"  and 
"  collated  with  an  old  black-letter  copy  in  the  Pepys  Collection 
intitled  '  A  pleasant  ballad  of  K.  Henry  II.  and  the  Miller  of 
Mansfield.'  "  "There  are  copies  of  this  ballad,"  says  Mr.  Chappell, 
who  prints  the  tune,  "in  the  Roxburgh  e  Collection,  vol.  i.  p.  178, 
and  p.  228  ;  in  the  Bagford  p.  25." 

"  It  has  been  a  favourite  subject,"  says  Percy,  "  with  our 
English  ballad-makers  to  represent  our  kings  conversing,  either 
by  accident  or  design,  with  the  meanest  of  their  subjects.  Of 
the  former  kind,  besides  this  song  of  the  King  and  the  Miller, 
we  have  '  K.  Henry  and  the  Soldier,'  <  K.  James  I.  and  the 
Tinker,'  *  K.  William  III.  and  the  Forester  '  &c.  Of  the  latter 
sort  are  '  K.  Alfred  and  the  Shepherd,'  (  K.  Edward  IV.  and 
the  Tanner,'  <  K.  Henry  VII.  and  the  Cobbler  '  &c." 

"  The  earliest  of  these  stories,"  says  Professor  Child  in  his 
Introduction  to  King  Edward  Fourth  and  the  Tanner  of  Tarn- 
worth,  "  seems  to  be  that  of  King  Alfred  and  the  Neatherd,  in 
which  the  herdsman's  wife  plays  the  offending  part  and  the 
peasant  himself  is  made  Bishop  of  Winchester.  Others  of  a 
very  considerable  antiquity  are  the  tales  of  Henry  II.  and  the 
Cistercian  Abbot  in  the  Speculum  Ecclesice  of  Ofiraldus  Cambren- 
sis  (an.  1220)  printed  in  Reliquice  Antiquce  i.  147  ;  King 
Edward  and  the  Shepherd,  and  The  King  [Edward]  and  the 
Hermit  in  Hartshorne's  Metrical  Tales  (p.  35.  p.  293,  the  latter 
previously  in  The  British  Bibliographer  iv.  81);  Rauf  Coilzear, 

1  In  the  printed  Collect/on  of  Old  Ballads,  1727,  Vol.  i.  p.  53.  No.  VIII.—  P. 

T     0 


148  K1NGE    AND    MILLEB. 

how  he  harbreit  King  Charles  in  Laing's  Select  Remains ;  John 
de  Reeve  .  .  .  .  and  the  King  and  the  Barker,  the  original  of 
the  present  ballad." 

The  idea  of  majesty  compelled,  or  condescending  to  fraternise 
with  low  life  has  in  foreign  countries,  too,  excited  the  vulgar 
imagination.  Such  meetings  of  extremes — the  fellowships  of  a 
power  so  high  with  a  thing  so  low — have  proved  extremely  fasci 
nating.  And  while  the  stories  of  them  show  how  tremendous  was 
the  interval  between  the  king  and  his  poor  subjects,  they  show  also 
how  friendly  was  the  popular  conception  of  royalty.  The  king 
was  far,  far  off;  but  he  was  kindly  and  genial.  He  could  be 
imagined  descending  from  his  supreme  height,  and  enjoying  the 
humours  of  the  humblest  and  vulgarest.  Such  descents  were  a 
kind  of  Avatars,  which  the  people  rejoiced  to  remember  and 
celebrate.  They  served  to  kindle  and  fan  their  loyal  affection ; 
to  bind  the  king  and  people,  as  showing  that  he  was  a  man  of 
like  passions  with  themselves,  not  an  alien  unsympathetic  being, 
scarcely  human. 


i 

HEREBY,  our  royall  King,  wold  goe  a  huntinge 

to  the  greene  fforrest  soe  pleasant  &  fayre, 
to  haue  the  harts  chased,  the  daintye  does  tripping ; 
4  to  merry  Sherwood  his  nobles  repayre  ; 

hound  ar<f  hauke  &  hound  was  vnbound,  all  things  prepared 

for  the  same  to  the  game  with  good  regard. 

2 

The  King  All  a  loiige  summers  day  rode  the  ~K.ing  pleasantlye 

day,  8  with  all  his  princes  &  nobles  eche  one, 

chasing  the  hart  &  hind  &  the  bucke  gallantlye, 

till  the  darke  euening  inforced  them  turne  home. 
^gat  right  then  at  last,  ryding  fast,  he  had  lost  quite 

in  the  wood.    12      all  his  Lords  in  the  wood  in  the  darke  night. 


KINGE    AND    MILLER.  149 


Wandering  thus  wearilye  all  alone  vp  &  downe, 

with  a  rude  Miller  he  mett  att  the  Last,  S?,,meets  a 

Miller, 

asking  the  ready  way  vnto  fayre  Nottingham.  and  asks  his 


16          "  Sir,"  Quoth  the  Miller,  "  I  meane  not  to  lest, 


way  to  Not 
tingham. 
The  Miller 

yett  I  thinke  what  I  thinke  truth  for  to  say, 
you  doe  not  lightlye  goe  out  of  yowr  way." 


4 
"Why,  what  dost  thou  thinke  of  me?"  Qwoth  our 

"King  merrily, 
20          "  passing  thy  iudgment  vpon  l  me  soe  breefe." 

"good  faith,"  Qwoth  the  Miller,  "I  meane2  not   to 

natter  thee,  takes  tho 

"  I  gesse  thee  to  bee  some  gentleman  theefe  ;  thief, 

stand  thee  backe  in  the  darke  !  light  not  adowne,  threatens  to 

24     lest  I  presentlye  cracke  thy  knaues  cro[wn]e  !  "  crown. 

5 
"  Thou   doest   abuse   me   much,"    quoth   our 

"  saying  thus. 
I  am  a  gentleman,  and  lodging  doe  lacke." 


"thou  hast  not,"  quoth  the   Miller,  "  a  groat  in  thy   snysne-sa 


The  King 
snys  he's  a 
gentleman 
.howants 

28          all  thine  inheritance  hanges  on  thy  backe." 
"  I  haue  e-old  to  discharge  for  that  I  call ; 

and  can  pay 

if  itt  be  40  pence,  I  will  pay  all."  for  it. 

6 

"  If  thou  beest  a  true  man,"  then  said  the  Miller,  offerfto1** 

32          "  I  sweare  by  my  tole  dish  He  lodge  theo  all  night."   lodsehim» 

"  Heeres  my  hand,"   quoth  our  TLing,   "that  was    I   [page  236] 

eue?*." 
"nay,   soft,"   qiioth  the  Miller,  "thou  mayst  be  a 

sprite  ; 

better  lie  know  thee  ere  hands  I  will  shake ;  but  won,t 

36      with  none  but  honest  men  hands  will  I  take." 

1  MS.  vpom. — F.  2  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 


150 


KINGE    AND    MILLER. 


They  go  into 


the  Miller's 
smoky  house, 


and  the  wife 
asks  if  the 
King  is  a 
runaway. 


Where  is  his 
passport  ? 


He  has  none, 

as  he  is  a 
courtier. 


The  Miller 
thinks  the 
King  behaves 
well  to  his 
betters, 


Thus  they  went  all  alonge  into  the  Millers  house, 

where  they  were  seeding  l  of  puddings  &  souce.2 
the  Miller  first  entered  in,  then  after  went  the  ~K.ing  ; 
40          neuer  came  he  in  soe  smoakye  a  house.3 

"  now,"  q^oth  hee,  "let  me  see  heere  what  you  are." 
Q^oth  our  ~King,  "looke  you[r]  fill,  &  doe  not  spare." 

8 
"  I  like  well  thy  countenance ;  thou  hast  an  honest 

fac[e]  ; 

44          with  my  sonne  Richard  this  night  thou  shalt  Lye." 
Q^oth  his  wiffe,  "  by  my  troth  it  is  a  good  hansome 

yout[h]  ; 

yet  it  is  best,  husband,  to  deale  warrilye. 
art  thou  not  a  runaway  ?  I  pray  thee,  youth,  tell ; 
48      show  vs  thy  pasport  &  all  shalbe  well." 

9 
Then  our  ~King  presentlye,  making  lowe  curtesie, 

with  his  hatt  in  his  hand,  this  he  did  say  : 
"  I  haue  noe  pasport,  nor  neuer  was  seruitor, 
52          but  a  poore  Courtyer  rode  out  of  the  way  ; 
&  for  yo^r  kindnesse  now  offered  to  me, 
I  will  requite  it  in  euerye  degree." 

10 

Then  to  the  Miller  his  wiffe  whisperd  secretlye, 
56          saing,  "  it  seemeth  the  youth  is  of  good  kin 
both  by  his  apparell  &  by  his  Manners  ; 

to  turne  him  out,  certainely  it  were  a  great  sin." 
"yea,"  q^oth  hee,  "  you  may  see  hee  hath  some  grace, 
60     when  as  he  speaks  to  his  betters  in  place." 

ll 
"Well,"  quoih  the  Millers  wiffe,  "younge  man,  welcome 

heer[e] ! 
&  tho  I  sayt,  well  lodged  shalt  thou  be ; 


1  seething,  boiling. — F. 

2  The  head,  feet,  and  ears  of  swine 
boi'ed  and  pickled  for  eating.      Halli- 


well.— F. 

3  See   Forewords  to  Babees  Boke,  p. 
Ixiv.— F. 


KINGE    AND    MILLER.  151 

fresh  straw  I  will  lay  vpon  jour  bed  soe  braue,  and  he  may 

64          good  browne  hempen  sheetes  likwise,"  Quoth  slice,     on  straw 
"  I,"  quoth  the  goodman,  "  &  when  that  is  done,  shoots  with 

their  sou, 

thou  shalt  lye  noe  worse  then  our  owne  sonne. 

12 

"  Nay  first,"  q^oth  Richard,   "good  fellowe,  tell  me 

true, 

68          hast  thou  noe  creepers  in  thy  gay  hose  ?  if  he  has  no 

art  thou  not  troubled  with  the  Scabbado  l  ?  "  his  breeches, 

"pray  you,"   quoth   the   JLing,    "what  things  are 

those  ? 

art  thou  not  lowsye  nor  scabbed  ?  "  quoth  hee  ;  and  is  not 

72      "  if  thou  beest,  surely  thou  lyest  not  with  me." 

13 
This  caused  our  JLincj  suddenly  to  laugh  most  hartilye 

till  the  teares  trickled  downe  from  his  eyes. 
then  to  there  supper  were  the  sett  orderlye,  They  sup  on 

bci0*- 

76          to  hott  bag  puddings  &  good  apple  pyes  ;  puddings, 

apple  pies, 

nappy  ale,  good  &  stale,  in  a  browne  bowle,  and  nappy 

which  did  about  the  bord  Merrily e  troule. 

14 
"Heere,"  quoth  the  Miller,  "  s;ood  fellowe,  He  drinke  The  Miller 

drinks  to  the 

to  thee  Kin£' 

80          &  to  all  the  courtnolls  that  curteous  bee." 

"I  pledge   thee,"    quoth  our  "King,  "&  thanke  thee   and  the  King 

to  him 

heartilye 

for  my  good  welcome  in  euerye  degree  ; 

&  heere  in  like  manner  I  drinke  to  thy  sonne."  and  his  son. 

84      "  doe  then,"  saies  Richard,  "  &  quicke  let  it  come." 

15 

"  Wiffe,"  quoth  the  Miller,  "  feitch  me  forth  lightfoote,     Dinner 
that  wee  of  his  sweetnesse  a  litle  may  tast."  Lightfoot. 

a  faire  venson  pastye  shee  feiched  forth  presentlye. 

1  MS.  may  be  Scolloado.     See  Forewords  to  Babees  BoJce,  1868,  p.  Ixiv. — F. 


152 


KINGE    AND    M1LLEB. 


The  King 
likes  it 
immensely. 


88  "  eate,"  qwoth  the  Miller  "  but  first  make  noe  wast ; 
heer  is  dainty  Lightfoote."  "  infaith,"  qi4oth  our  King, 
"  I  neuer  before  eate  of  soe  dayntye  a  thinge."  . 


Where  can 
he  buy  some? 


It's  the 
King's  deer 
from 
Sherwood. 


Don't  tell 
him. 


Certainly 
not,  says 
the  King. 


16 

"  Iwis,"  said  Richard,  "noe  dayntye  att  all  it  is, 
92         for  wee  doe  eate  of  it  euerye  day." 

"  in  what  place,"  sayd  our  King,  "  may  be  bought  lik 

to  th[is  ?]  " 

"  wee  neuer  pay  peennye  for  it,  by  my  fay ; 
from  merry  Sherwood  wee  feitch  it  home  heero ; 
96     now  &  then  we  make  bold  w^th  our  Kings  deere." 

17 
"  Then  I  thinke,"  q^oth  our  King,  "  thai  it  is  Venison." 

"  eche  foole,"  q^oth  Richard,  "  full  well  may  see  thai ; 
neuer  are  we  without  2  or  3  in  the  roofie, 
100        verry  well  fleshed  &  exellent  ifatt. 

but  I  pray  thee  say  nothing  where- ere  thou  goe, 
we  wold  not  for  2  pence  the  King  shold  it  know." 

18 

"  doubt  not,"  saies  l  our  King,  "  my  promised  secresye  ; 
104        the  King  shall  neuer  know  more  ont  for  mee." 
a  cupp  of  lambes  woole  2  they  dranke  vnto  him, 

&  to  their  bedds  the  past  presentlye. 
the  Nobles  next  Morning  went  all  vp  &  downe 
in  euerye  towne; 


Next 

morning  the  rt  ,       , , 

nobles  108    for  to  seeke  the 


find  the  King 
at  the 
Miller's 
house, 
and  fall  on 
their  knees 
before  him. 


1 9  [page  237] 

At  last,  att  the  Miller's  house  soone  the  did  spye  him 

plaine, 

as  he  was  mounting  vpon  his  faire  steede  ; 
to  whome  the  came  presentlye,  falling  downe  on  their 

knees, 


1  MS.  saiy.— E. 

2  A  favourite  liquor  among  the  com 
mon  people,  composed  of  ale  and  roasted 


apples  ;  the  pulp  of  the  roasted  apple 
worked  up  with  the  ale,  till  the  mixture 
formed  a  smooth  beverage.  Nares. — F. 


KINGE    AND    MILLER. 


153 


112        which  made  the  Millers  hart  wofullye  bleed. 
Shaking  &  quaking  before  him  he  stood, 
thinking  he  shold  be  hanged  by  the  rood. 

20 

The  K[ing]  perceiuing  him  fearfully  tremblinge, 
116        drew  forth  his  sword,  but  nothing  he  said  ; 
the  Miller  downe  did  fall  crying  before  them  all, 

doub tinge  1  the  King  wold  cut  of  his  head, 
but  he,  his  kind  curtesie  for  to  requite, 
120    gaue  him  great  liuing,  &  dubd  him  a  Knight. 

21 

When  as  our  noble  King  came  from  Nottingam, 

&  with  his  nobles  in  Westminster  Lay, 
recounting  the  sports  &  the  pastime  the  had  tane 
124        in  this  late  progresse  along  on  the  way ; 
of  them  all,  gr^at  &  small,  hee  did  protest 
the  Miller  of  Mansfeild  liked  him  best ; 


The  Miller 
quakes. 


The  King 
draws  his 
sword. 

The  Miller 
expects  to 
have  his 
head  cut  of 

but  is 
knighted. 


At  West 
minster, 
afterwards, 


22 

"And  now,  my  Lorrfs,"  qiiotli  the  King,  "I  am  de 
termined, 
128        against  St.  Georges  next  sumptuous  feast, 

that  this  old  Miller,  our  youngest  confirmed  Knight, 

with  his  sonne  Richard,  shalbe  both  my  guest ; 
for  in  this  merryment  it  is  my  desire 
132    to  talke  with  this  lollye  Knight  &  the  younge  squier." 

23 
When  as  the  Noble  Lords  saw  the  Kings  merriment, 

the  were  right  loyfull  &  glad  in  their  harts. 
a  Pursiuant  the  sent  straight  on  this  busines, 
136        the  which  oftentimes  vsed  those  parts. 

when  he  came  to  the  place  where  he  did  dwell, 
His  message  merrilye  then  he  did  tell. 


the  King 
resolves 
to  ask  tho 
Miller  and 
his  son  up 
to  a  feast. 


A  pur 
suivant  is 
sent  with 
the  invita 
tion, 


1  fearing. — F. 


154 


KINGE    AND   MILLER. 


which  he 
delivers  in 
due  form. 


24 

"  God  saue  yo^r  worshippe,"  then  said  the  messenger, 
140        "  &  grant  your  Ladye  l  her  owne  harts  desire  ; 

&  to  yo^r  sonne  'Richard  good  fortune  &  happinesse, 
that  sweet  younge  gentleman  &  gallant  squier  ! 

our  'King  greets  yon  well,  &  thus  doth  say, 
144    '  you  must  come  to  the  court  on  St.  Georges  day ' ; 


At  first  the 
Miller  is 
half  afraid, 


but  on 
hearing  of 
the  feast 


148 


25 

"  Therfore  in  any  case  fayle  not  to  be  in  place." 
"  I-wis,"  q^oth  the  Miller,  "it  is  an  odd  lest ! 
what  shold  wee  doe  there  ?  "  he  sayd,  "infaith  I  am 

halfe  afraid." 
"I  doubt,"  quoth  Eichard,  "to  be  hanged  att  the 

least." 

"  nay,"  quoth  the  Messenger,  "  you  doe  mistake ; 
our  ~King  prepares  a  great  feast  for  your  sake." 


gives  the 
pursuivant 
three 
farthings, 


26 

"Then,"  said  the   Miller,  "now   by  my  troth,  Mes 
senger, 
152        thou  hast  contented  my  worshipp  full  well : 

hold  !  there  is  3  farthings  to  quite  thy  great  gentleness 

for  these  happy  tydings  which  thou  dost  me  tell, 
let  me  see  !  nearest  thou  me  ?  tell  to  our  'King, 


and  promises  156    weele  wayte  on  his  Mastershipp  in  euerye  thing." 


The 

pursuivant 
reports  all 
to  the  King. 


27 

The  pursivant  smyled  at  their  simplicitye  ; 

&  making  many  2  leggs,  tooke  their  reward, 
&  takeing  then  his  leaue  w*'th  great  humilitye, 
160        to  the  K.ings  court  againe  hee  repayred, 
showing  vnto  his  grace  in  euerye  degree 
the  JLnights  most  liberall  giffts  &  great  bountye. 


1  ?  MS.  Ladyes.— F. 


2  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 


KINGE   AND    MILLER.  155 

28 

When  hee  was  gone  away,  thus  can  the  Miller  say, 
164        "  heere  comes  expences  &  charges  indeed  !  TheMiiier 

now  must  wee  needs  be  braue,  tho  wee  spend  all  wee  buyPnewto 

clothes, 
haue  ;  horses,  &c. 

for  of  new  garments  wee  haue  great  need, 
of  horsses  &  serving  men  wee  must  haue  store, 
168    with  bridles  &  sadles  &  20'f  things  more."  ? 

29 
"  Tushe,  Sir  lohn,"  q^oth  his  wiife,  "  neither  doe  frett   His  wife 

dissuades 

nor  irowne  !  him. 

you  shall  bee  att  noe  more  charges  of  mee  ! 
for  I  will  turne  &  trim  vp  my  old  russett  gowne,  she'll  trim 

up  the  old 

172        with  euerye  thing  else  as  nne  as  may  bee  ;  clothes, 

&  on  our  Mill  horsses  full  swift  wee  will  ryd,  and  they'll 

with  pillowes  &  pannells  as  wee  shall  provyde."  mm-horses. 

30 
In  this  most  statelye  sort  the  rod  vnto  the  court,  Thus  they 

go  to  court. 

176        their  lusty  sonne  Richard  formost  of  all, 

who  sett  vp  by  good  hap  a  cockes  fether  in  his  cappe  ; 

&  soe  the  ietted  downe  towards  the  "Kings  hall, 
the  Merry  old  Miller  with  his  hands  on  his  side, 

180    his  wiffe  like  Maid  Marryan  did  Mince  at  that  tyde. 

31 
The  Kinj  &  his  nobles  that  hard  of  their  coming, 

meeting  this  gallant  Knight  with  this  braue  traine, 
"welcome,  Sir  Knight,"  quoth  hee,  "with  this  jour   The  King 

T      ^      •  welcomes 

gay  Lady !  them, 

184        good  Sir  lohn  Cockle,  once  welcome  againe  ; 
&  soe  is  this  squier  of  courage  soe  free !  " 
Q^oth  dicke,  "  abotts  on  you  !  doe  you  know  me  ?  " 


Qwoth  our  K.ing  gently e,  "  how  shall  I  forgett  thee  ?       and  assures 
188        thou  wast  my  owne  bed-fellow ;  well  that  I  wot,          that  he 


156 


KINGE   AND    MILLER. 


remembers 


The  King 
conduct* 
them  to 
table, 


and  after 
dinner 
drinks  to 
the  Miller, 


and  wants 
some  of  his 
venison. 


but  I  doe  thinke  on  a  tricke  ;  tell  me,  pray  thee,  dicke, 

how  with  farting  we  made  the  bed  hott." 
"  thou  horson  happy  knane,"  the[n]  q^oth  the  Km'^/tt, 
192    "  speake  cleanly  to  our  [king  now,]  or  else  goe  shite  !  " 


33  [page  238] 

The  king  and  his  councellors  hartilye  laugh  at  this, 
while  the  ~King  tooke  them  by  the  hand. 

w^th   Ladyes  &   their  maids,   like  to   the    Queene  of 

spades 
the  Millers  wiffe  did  most  orderlye  stand ; 

a  milkemaids  curtesye  at  eu^rye  word, 

&  downe  these  folkes  were  set  to  the  bord,  j 


196 


34 


Where  the  'K.ing  royally  w^'th  princely  Maiestye 


200 


He  asks 
Eichard  to 
pledge  him. 

Dick  says  he 
must  finish 
his  dinner 
first; 

he  wants  a 

black 

pudding, 


sate  at  his  dinner  w^'th  loy  &  delight, 
when  he  had  eaten  well,  to  resting  then  hee  fell ; 

taking  a  bowle  of  wine,  dranke  to  the  JLnight, 
"  heeres  to  you  both  !  "  he  sayd,  "in  ale,  wine,  &  beere, 
204    thanking  you  hartilye  for  all  my  good  cheere." 

35 
Quotlo.  Sir  lohn  Cockle,  "  He  pledge  you  a  pottle, 

were  it  the  best  ale  in  ISTottingam- shire." 
"but  then,"  said  our  ~K.ing,  "I  thinke  on  a  thinge, 
208        some  of  yo^r  lightfoote  I  wold  we  had  heere." 

"  ho  :  ho  :  "  Q^oth  Richard,  "  full  well  I  may  say  it ; 
its  knauerye  to  eate  it  &  then  to  bewray  it." 

36 

"  What !  art  thou  hungry  ?  "  q^oth  our  "King  merrilye, 
212        "  infaith  I  take  it  verry  vnkind ; 

I   thought   thou   woldest   pledg   me   in  wine   or   ale 

heartil[y.]  " 
"yee  are  like   to  stay,"  q^oth  Dicke,  "till  I  haue 

dind, 

you  feed  vs  with  twatling  dishes  soe  small. 
216    zounds  !  a  blacke  pudding  is  better  then  all." 


KINGE    AND    MILLER. 


157 


37 
"  I,  marry,"  qwoth  our  King,  "  that  were  a  dainty e  thing, 

if  wee  cold  gett  one  heere  for  to  eate." 
with  that,  dicke  straight  arose,  &  plucket  one  out  of 

his  h[ose,] 

220        -which,  with  heat  of  his  breech  began  for  to  sweate. 
the  King  made  profer  to  snatch  it  away  ; 
"  its  meate  foryo^r  Master,  good  Sir,  you  shall  stay  !  " 

33 

Thus  with  great  merriment  was  the  time l  wholy  spent; 
224        &  then  the  Ladyes  prepared  to  dance. 

old  Sir  lohn  2  Cockle  &  Richard!  incontinent 

vnto  this  practise  the  King  did  advance, 
where-with  the  Ladyes  such  sport  the  did  make, 
228    the  Nobles  with  laughing  did  make  their  heads  ake. 

39 
Many  thankes  for  their  paiiies  the  King  did  giue  them 

then, 

asking  young  Richard  if  he  wold  be  wed : 
"  amongst  these  ladyes  faire,  tell  me  which  liketh  thee." 
232        Q?<oth  hee,  "  lugg  Grumball  with  the  red  head  ; 
shees  my  loue  ;  shees  my  liffe  ;  her  will  I  wed  ; 
shee  hath  sworne  I  shall  haue  her  maidenhead." 


and  pulls 
one  out  of 
his  breeches. 


"That's  meat 
for  your 
master,  Sir 
King." 


The  Miller 
and  Richard 
dance  with 
the  ladies, 

and  make 
the  nobles 
laugh. 


TheKing 
asks  Dick 
which  lady 
he'd  like. 
"  J"gg 
Grumball 
with  the  red 
head." 


40 


Then  Sir  lohn  Cockle  the  King  called  vnto  him  ; 

The  King 
makes  the 
Miller 
overseer  of 

"  but  now  take  heede  you  steale  noe  more  of  my  deere  !    and  warns 

him  not  to 

&  once  a  quarter  lets  heare  haue  VOUT  vew  :  steal  any 

deer. 

240    &  thus,  Sir  lohn  Cockle,  I  bid  thee  adew  !  " 


236        &  of  Merry  sherwood  made  him  ouerseer, 
&  gaue  him  out  of  hand  3001!  yearlye, 


1  A  y  has  been  altered  into  part  of 
the  m  in  the  MS.— F. 


ffins. 

Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— R 


["  Panche,"  printed  in  Lo.  and  Hum.  Songs,  p.  61,  follows  here 
in  the  MS.] 


158 


aSattdL1 

AGINCOURT  must  have  been  a  tempting  theme  to  the  ballad- 
writer  and  poet  of  its  day.  The  splendid  pluck  with  which  the 
little  English  army,  wasted  by  dysentery,  ill-fed,  and  harassed  by 
long  marches  and  hostile  skirmishers,  nevertheless  went  at  its 
enemies,  facing  the  terrible  odds  of  more  than  six  to  one,  and 
put  to  ignominious  rout  the  vaunting  knights  of  France,  must 
have  appealed  to  the  English  heart  and  the  English  pride,  and 
ought  to  have  been  worthily  sung.  The  ballad-writer  especially 
was  bound  to  take  it  up,  for  the  class  he  wrote  for  led  the  van 
and  won  the  field.  As  at  Crecy,  as  at  Poictiers,  so  at  Agincourt, 
the  English  yeomen  humbled  the  gentlemen  of  France.  Like 
the  feu  $enfer  of  our  rifles  at  Inkerman,  the  hail  of  yeomen's 
arrows  gained  England  honour  in  the  olden  hard-fought  field. 
But  though  at  Agincourt  the  rout  of  the  first  division  of  the 
French  army  was  due  solely  to  our  bowmen,  against  the  second, 
squire  and  knight,  noble  and  king  did  well  their  part  too — none 
better  than  the  Harry  who  said  "  WE  WILL  NOT  LOSE,"  and  gave 
the  battle  lastingly  the  name  of  Azincourt.  To  the  valour  of 
all  was  due  the  flight  of  the  French  third  division,  which, 
though  more  than  double  the  number  of  the  English  host, 
feared  to  face  their  arrows  and  their  swords,  and  gallopped  off 
the  field.  That  "  the  people  of  England  were  literally  mad 
with  joy  and  triumph"  at  the  victory — rushing  into  the  sea  to 
meet  Henry,  and  carrying  him  on  shore  on  their  shoulders — 
we  do  not  wonder ;  but  it  is  somewhat  odd  that  no  better 
ballad  or  poem  on  the  battle  should  have  come  down  to  us, 
though  in  a  play  Shakspeare  has  done  it  justice.  The  ballads 
known  to  me  are  only — 

1  In  the  printed  Collection  of  Old  Ballads,  1726,  vol.  ii.  p.  79,  No.  xii. 


AGINCOURTE    BATTELL.  159 

1.  The  Deo  gratias,  Anglia,  redde  pro  victoria!  printed  by 
Percy  in  his  Reliques,  vol.  ii.  p.  24,  "  from  a  MS.  copy  in  the 
Pepys  collection,  vol.  i.,  folio,"  and  to  which  the  musical  notes 
of  the  MS.  are  given  in  vol.  ii.  p.  24  of  the  second  edition  of 
the  Reliques.  2.  The  present  copy,  having  seven  stanzas  more 
than,  but  being-  otherwise  nearly  the  same  as,  that  in  the  Crown 
Garland  of  Golden  Roses,  ed.  1569  (p.  69  of  the  Percy  Soc.  reprint), 
the  Collection  of  Old  Ballads,  1726-38,  vol.  ii.  p.  79,  No.  xii. ; 
Evans,  vol.  ii.  p.  351,  &c.  3.  The  Three  Man's  Song, — far  the 
best  of  the  lot, — the  first  verse  of  which  is  quoted  in  Heywood's 
King  Edward  IV.  ed.  1600  (p.  52  of  the  Shakspere  Soc.  reprint), 
and  the  whole  of  which  is  printed  from  a  black-letter  copy  (about 
1665,  Mr.  Collier  tells  me)  in  Collier's  Shakspere,  ed.  1858,  vol. 
iii.  p.  538.  Its  title  is  "  Agin  Court,  or  the  English  Bowman's 
Glory :  "  to  a  pleasant  new  Tune.  London,  printed  for  Henry 
Harper  in  Smithfield.  It  is  a  broadside,  and  contains  eleven 
seven-line  stanzas.  It  begins  "  Agincourt !  Agincourt !  Know 
ye  not  Agincourt?"  4.  The  ballad  No.  286  in  the  Halliwell 
Collection  in  Chetham's  Library,  Manchester,  entitled,  "  King 
Henry  V.,  his  Conquest  of  France  in  .Revenge  for  the  Affront 
offered  by  the  French  King  in  sending  him  instead  of  the  Tribute 
a  Ton  of  Tennis  Balls."  It  begins,  "  As  our  King  lay  musing  on 
his  bed ; "  and  two  versions  different  from  it  and  from  one  another 
are  given  in  Nicolas,  Appendix,  p.  78,  and  p.  80,  ed.  1832. 
5.  The  Cambro-Britons  Ballad  of  Agincourt,  by  Michael 
Drayton,  ib.  p.  83.  Nos.  3  and  4  will  be  printed  at  the  end  of 
this  volume. 

Of  Poems,  there  are  : 

1.  a.  That  attributed  to  Lydgate,  in  three  Passus,  in  Harl.  MS. 
565,  fol.  102—14,  beginning  fi  God  j?at  alltf  ]?is  world  gan  make," 
and  printed  among  the  illustrations  of  The  Chronicle  of  London, 
4to,  1827,  and  in  Nicolas,  p.  301-29.  /3.  "The  Siege  of  Har- 
flet,  &  Batayl  of  Agencourt,  by  K.  Hen.  5:"  another  copy 
of  Lydgate's  poem,  says  Nicolas  (p.  301),  but  differing  from  it 
so  materially  that  it  was  necessary  to  print  it  as  notes  to  the 
corresponding  passages  of  the  other.  It  was  printed  by  Hearne 
at  p.  359-75  of  his  edition  of  Elm/iam's  Life  of  Henry  V.,  from 
the  since  burnt  Cotton  MS.,  Vitellius  D.  xii.  fol.  214  b.  Extracts 
from  it  are  given  by  Nicolas,  p.  301-29. 

7.  The  Batayll  of  Egyngecourt,  and  the  great  Sege  of 
Rouen.  .  Irnpryntyd  by  John  Skot  [about  1530  A.D.].  Re 
printed  in  Nicolas,  and  in  Mr.  W.  C.  Hazlitt's  Remains  of  the 


160  AGINCOURTE    BATTELL. 

Early  Popular  Poetry  of  England,  vol.  ii.  p.  88-108.       is, 
says  Nicolas  ( App.  p.  69),  "  merely  another,  though  a  very  differen 
version  of  the  one  "  attributed  to  Lydgate. 

2.  Drayton's  Battaile  of  Agincovrt,  1627.  (Besides'  The  Lay 
of  Agincourt,  Edinburgh,  1819  (a  very  poor  performance),  and 
possibly  other  modern  productions.) 

Of  Dramas,  we  find  : 

1.  The  Famous  Victories  of  Henry  the  Fifth  :  Containing  the 
Honourabell    Battell    of  Agin-court:   as    it   was  plaide  by   the 
Queen e's   Maiesties     Players.       London,    Printed    by   Thomas 
Creede,  1598,  4to,  26  leaves.     Bodleian.     (Malone).1 

2.  The  Chronicle  History  of  Henry  the  Fift,  With  his  Battell 
fought  at  Agin  Court  in  France.     Togither  with  auncient  Pis- 
toll.     1600  :  the  first  cast  of  Shakspere's  Henry  7.2 

In  prose,  a  full  and  admirable  account  of  the  battle,  with  con 
temporary  accounts  and  plentiful  extracts  from  historians,  is  given 
by  Sir  Nicholas  Harris  Nicolas  in  his  History  of  the  Battle  of 
Agincourt,  and  of  the  Expedition  of  Henry  V.  into  France  in 
1415,  (2nd  ed.*  1832;  3rd,  1838);  and  from  this  book  it  may 
be  worth  while  just  to  run  through  the  points  of  our  ballad,  and 
see  how  far  they  are  borne  out  by  facts.  The  Council  of  line  1, 
Nicolas  thinks  was  the  parliament  which  met  in  November  1514, 
which  elected  Chaucer's  son  Thomas  its  Speaker,  and  voted  the 
King  supplies  for  the  defence  of  the  kingdom  of  England  and 
the  safety  of  the  seas.  But  it  may  have  been  a  smaller  Council, 
no  doubt  held  before  the  Commission  of  the  31st  of  May, 
1514,  absurdly  claiming  the  French  crown,  was  issued  to  the 
Bishops  of  Durham  and  Norwich,  the  Earl  of  Salisbury,  Richard 
Lord  Grey,  &c. — whom  Monstrelet  calls  le  Comte  d?  Our  set, 
oncle  du  Roy  d'Angleterre,  le  Comte  de  Grez,  r Admiral 
d'Angleterre,  les  Euesques  du  Dumelin  et  de  Noruegue,  et 
piusieurs  autres  iusques  au  nombre  de  six  cens  cheuaux  ou 
environ  (vol.  i.  p.  216,  ed.  1595) — and  who  were  so  hospitably 
entertained  in  Paris.  The  great  Council  at  which  the  arrarige- 

1  Hazlitt's  Handbook.  2  Bohn's  Lowndes,  p.  2280,  col.  2. 


AGINCODRTE   BATTELL.  161 

ments  for  the  expedition  were  made  was  held  at  Westminster  on 
three  successive  days,  April  16,  17,  18,  A.  D.  1415,  directly  after 
the  despatch  of  Henry's  second  letter  to  Charles. 

The  story  of  the  scornful  treatment  of  the  ambassadors  in 
1.  16-28  is  belied  by  Monstrelet's  account  of  the  moult  notable 
feste  dedans  Paris  en  boyres,  mangers,  joustes,  dances  et  autres 
esbatemens,  at  which  the  English  ambassadors  were  present ; 
and  there  seems  no  foundation  whatever  for  the  present  of  the 
tennis  balls,  which  would  have  gone  directly  counter  to  the 
French  King's  policy,  letters,  and  interest.  But  still  his  young  son 
may  have  been  saucy,  and  have  sent  a  saucy  message  to  Henry. 
The  story  was  believed  to  be  true  at  the  time  or  soon  after ;  it 
is  mentioned  by  Elmham  in  his  Latin- verse  life  of  Henry  V  } 
(though  not  in  his  prose  life),  and  a  long  account  of  it  is  given 
in  a  middle  fifteenth-century  Cotton  MS.  (Claudius  A.  viii.) 
which  Sir  H.  Nicolas  prints,  and  which,  as  I  had  to  refer  to  it 
to  correct  his  cornet  to  the  MS.  scorne,  I  add  here  too  : 

And  thaw,  the  dolphine  of  Fraunce  aunswered  to  our  embassatours, 
and  said  in  this  maner,  '  that  the  kyng  was  ouer  yong  and  to  tender 
of  age  to  make  any  warre  ayens  hym,  and  was  not  lyke  yet  to  be 
noo  good  werrioure  to  cloo  and  to  make  suche  a  conquest  there  vpon 
hym.  And  somwhat  in  scorne  and  dispite  he  sente  to  hym  a  tonne 
fulle  of  tenys  ballis,  be-cause  he  wolde  haue  some-what  for  to  play 
Wit/^alle  for  hym  and  for  his  lordis,  and  that  be-came  hym  better  than 
to  mayntayn  any  werre.  And  than  anone  oure  lordes  that  was 
embassatours  token  hir  leue  and  comen  in  to  England  ayenne,  and 
tolde  the  kyng  and  his  counceillc  of  the  vngoodly  aunswer  that  they 
had  of  the  Dolphy^,  and  of  the  present  the  whiche  he  had  sent  vnto 
the  kyng.  And  whan  ye  kyng  had  hard  her  wordis,  and  the  answere 
of  the  Dolpynne,  he  was  wondre  sore  agreued,  and  righte  euellc  apayd 
towarde  the  frensshemen,  and  toward  the  kyng,  and  the  Dolphynne, 
and  thoughte  to  auenge  hym  vpon  hem  as  sone  as  good  wold  send  hym 
grace  and  myghte  ;  and  anon  lette  make  tenys  ballis  for  the  Dolpynne 
in  all  the  hast  that  the  myghte  be  made,  and  they  were  grete  gonne 
stones  for  the  Dolpynne  to  play  wythe-alle.  (fol.  1,  back.) 

1  Printed  in  Coles's  Memorials  of  Henry  V. 
VOL.  II,  M 


162  AGINCOURTE    BATTELL. 

This  Dauphin  was  Louis,  eldest  son  of  Charles  VI.,  then 
between  eighteen  and  nineteen  years  of  age.  He  was  born  on 
January  22,  1396,  and  died  before  his  father,  without  issue,  on 
December  18,  1415,  in  his  twentieth  year  (Nicolas).  But  as 
Henry  V.  was  eight  years  older  than  the  Dauphin,  having  been 
born  in  1388,  it  is  not  likely  that  he  would  have  taunted  Henry 
with  his  youth. 

Lines  33-40  :  Henry  exerted  himself  greatly  to  get  his  army 
together,  and  had  to  pledge  his  crowns,  his  jewels,  plate,  &c. 
to  his  men  to  guarantee  them  their  wages.  Nobody  would 
move  without  taking  security  from  him.  He  sailed  from  South 
ampton  on  August  1,  1415,  with  a  fleet  of  between  1200  and 
1400  vessels  of  various  sizes,  from  20  to  300  tons,  according  to 
Nicolas.  Lingard  makes  the  fleet  1500  sail,  carrying  6000 
men-at-arms  and  2400  archers.  The  army  landed  at  Clef  de 
Cans,  or  Kideaux,  on  August  15  ;  on  the  19th  arrived  before 
Harfleur,  and  at  once  laid  siege  to  it.  On  "  the  English  balls," 
1.  34,  and  missiles,  Laboureur  states  that,  among  other  engines, 
the  English  had  some  which  threw  stones  of  a  monstrous  size,  and 
projected  entire  millstones  (des  meules  toutes  entieres),  which 
threw  down  the  walls  with  a  frightful  noise,  so  that  by  the  Feast 
of  the  Assumption  (August  15,  a  wrong  date)  all  their  batteries 
were  destroyed.  I  find  nothing  about  the  "great  gunn  of  Calais " 
of  1.49;  but  on  September  17  at  midnight  the  French  mes 
sengers  came  to  treat  with  Henry  ;  and  as  the  town  was  not 
relieved  by  September  22,  the  Lord  de  Gaucourt  and  thirty- four 
of  the  noblest  persons  of  the  town  then  surrendered  it  to  him. 
He  turned  out  the  inhabitants  (1.  58)  to  the  number  of  2000, 
besides  citizens,  60  knights,  and  more  than  200  other  gentry; 
left  in  the  town  more  than  the  300  Englishmen  of  our 
ballad,  1.  59,  even,1  "  under  the  captain  2  (Sir  John  Blount,  says 

1  There  is  a  muster-roll  of  the  garrison  22  knights,  273   men-at-arms,  and  798 

of  Harfleur,  tinder  the  Earl  of  Dorset,  archers.  Most  of  these,  we  may  presume, 

taken  in  the  months  of  January,  Feb-  had   been   left  behind   when   the  King 

ruary,  and  March,  immediately  following  marched  on  to  Agincourt.   Hunter,  p.  55. 

the   battle.     It   consisted  of  4  barons,  2]?elordBeauford,Harl.MS.575,f.  7ob. 


AGINCOURTE   BATTELL.  163 

Monstrelet),  certain  barons  and  knights  skilful  in  affairs  of  war, 
with  300  lances,  and  900  archers  on  pay  "  (Nicolas,  p.  217),  and 
marched  out  himself  on  October  7  with  "  not  above  900  lances 
and  5000  archers,"  says  a  writer  who  was  with  him.  Nicolas 
puts  the  force  at  from  6000  to  9000  fighting  men.  Lines  61-4 
of  the  ballad  are  not  true,  for  Henry's  movements  were  watched, 
his  stragglers  cut  off,  and  the  country  laid  waste  before  him. 
He  was  repulsed  in  his  first  attempts  to  cross  the  Somme,  between 
October  12  and  18  ;  but  on  the  19th,  finding  a  ford  not  staked, 
his  army  got  over ;  on  the  24th  reached  Maisoncelles,  and  on  the 
25th  fought  the  battle. 

The  600,000  French  of  1.  72  is  of  course  an  exaggeration,  a  0 
has  been  added  for  effect.1  The  message  and  answer  of  lines 
73—88  are  not  historical,  though  the  following  particulars  are 
nearly  so,  and  the  10,000  killed  of  1.  137  is  borne  out  by 
Nicolas's  conclusion,  that  the  whole  of  the  French  loss  on  the 
field  was  between  10,000  and  11,000  men. 

The  Duke  of  Yorke  of  line  117  was  "  Edward,  Duke  of  York, 
son  of  Edmund  of  Langley,  Duke  of  York,  son  of  King 
Edward  III.,  and  cousin  german  to  the  King.  He  indented  on 
April  29  to  serve  with  1  banneret,  4  knights,  94  esquires,  and 
300  mounted  archers.  His  contingent,  in  the  indenture  of  jewels, 
is  said  to  have  been  99  lances  and  300  archers.  He  had  one  of 
the  crowns  in  pledge.  He  went  on  with  the  King  to  Agincourt, 
where  he  lost  his  life  "  (Hunter,  p.  22).  On  the  Wednesday 
before  the  battle,  says  Monstrelet,  i.  227,  "  le  due  d'Yorch,  son 
oncle,  menaTit  1'auantgarde,  se  logea  a  Frene?ich  sur  la  riuiere 
de  Cauche."  This  leadership  of  the  vanguard  the  Duke  kept  on 
the  25th,  and  as  the  Cotton  MS.  already  quoted  from  narrates 
his  asking  for  it,  and  the  events  of  the  battle,  I  copy  a  page 
and  a  half  of  it  from  leaves  3  and  4. 

1  The  highest  number  in  any  of  the  other     persons.       Note     to    Hardyng's 

sixteen   chronicles    that   Nicolas     gives  Chronicle, 'according  to  the  computation 

(p.  133,  ed.  1832)  is  "3  Dukes,  5  Counts,  of  the  Heralds.'"     150,000  occurs  in  a 

90  Barons,  1050  Knights,  and  100,000  doubtful  list.     Nicolas,  p.  370. 


164  AGINCOUKTE   BATTELL. 

And  the  duke  of  yorke  felle  on  knees  and  besoughte  the  kyng  of  a 
bone,  that  he  wold  graunte  hym  that  day  the  avaunteward  in  his 
batayle.  And  the  kyng  graunted  hym  his  askyng,  And  sayd, 
"  graunte  mercy,  cosen  of  yorke,"  and  prayd  hym  to  make  hym  redy. 
And  than  he  bad  euery  man  to  ordeyne  a  stake  of  tre,  and  sharpe 
bothe  endes  that  the  stake  myghte  be  pyghte  in  the  ye-Jrthe  a  slope, 
that  hir  enemies  shuld  not  ouer-come  hem  on  horsbak,  ffor  that  were 
hir  fals  purpose,  and  araide  hem  alle  there  for  to  ouer-ryde  our  meyne 
sodenly  at  the  fyrst  comyng  on  of  hem  at  the  fyrst  brount :  and  al 
nyghte  be-ffore  the  bataile  ]>Q  ffrenshemen  made  many  grete  fiers  and 
moche  reuelle,  with  howtyng  and  showtyng,  and  plaid  cure  kyng  and 
his  lordis  at  the  dise,  and  an  archer  alway  for  a  blanke  2  of  hir  money, 
ffor  they  wenden  alle  had  bene  heres.  the  morne  arose,  the  day  gan 
spryng,  And  the  kyng  by  goode  auise  let  araie  his  batayle  3  and  his 
wenges,  and  charged  euery  man  to  kepe  hem  hole  to-geders,  and 
praid  hem  alle  to  be  of  good  chere.  And  whan  they  were  redy,  he 
asked  what  tyme  of  the  day  it  was,  And  they  sayd  prime.  Than  said 
oure  kyng,  "  now  is  good  tyme  !  For  alle  England  pray  the  for  vs  ; 
and  therfore  be  of  good  chere,  and  letvs  goo  to  oure  iorney."  And 
than  he  said  with  an  highe  vois,  "  in  the  name  4  of  almyghtey  god  and 
seynt  George,  avaunt  Baner!  and  seint  george  this  day  be  thyne 
helpe  ! "  And  than  these  ffrenshmen  come  prikyng  doune  as  they 
wolde  haue  ouer-ridden  alle  oure  meyne.  But  god  and  oure  archers 
made  hem  sone  to  stomble  ;  ffor  oure  archers  shett  neuer  arow  a-mys, 
but  yt  per s  shed  and  br ought e  to  grounde  man  and  hors ;  ffor  they 
])at  day  shoten  for  a  wager.  And  oure  stakes  mad  hem  stoppe,  & 
ouer-terned  eche  on  oothir  that  they  lay  on  hepes  two  spere  lenghthe 
of  heyghte.  And  oure  kyng  -with  his  meyne  and  with  his  men  of 
armes  and  archiers  that  thakked  5  on  theym  so  thykke  with  arowes, 
and  leyd  on  with  strokes,  and  oure  kyng  withe  his  owne  hondes 
faughte  manly.  And  thus  almyghtey  god  and  seynt  George  brought  e 
oure  enymies  to  grounde  and  yaf  vs  that  day  J>e  victorie.  and  there 
were  slayne  of  ffrenshmen  that  day  in  the  felde  of  Agincourte  mo 
thanne  A  xi  MU  withe  prisoners  that  were  taken.  And  there  were 
nombred  that  day  of  ffrenshmen  in  the  felde  mo  than  six  score  thou- 


1  MS.  fol.  3,  back.  3  The  main  body  under  his  own  com- 

2  Fr.  Blanc,  the  halfe  of  a  Sol,  a  peeee  niand.     The  vanguard  as  the  right  wing 
of  money  which  we  call  also,  a  blanke.  under  the  Duke  of  York,  the  rearguard 
Sol,    a   Sous,  or  the   French    shilling,  as  the  left  wing  under  Lord  Camois. 
whereof  terme  make  one  of  ours. — Cot-  4  MS.  mame. 

grave.  6  thwacked,  beat,  pattered. 


AGINCOORTE   BATTELL.  165 

sand,  and  of  Englishemen  nat  vij  MU;  but  god  that  day  faughte  for  vs. 
And  after  cam  ther  tydynges  to  oure  kyng  that  there  was  a  new 
batayle  of  ffrenshemen  redy  to  stele  on  hym,  and  comen  towardis 
\_fol.  4.]  hym.  Anone  our  kyng  let  crie  that  euery  man  shuld 
slee  his  prisoners  that  he  had  take  ;  and  anon  araid  his  bataille 
ayenne  to  fighte  with  the  frenshmen.  And  whanne  they  sawe  that  our 
men  kylled  doune  her  prisoners,  thanne  they  witMrowe  hem,  and 
brake  hir  bataille  and  alle  hir  Array.  And  this  oure  kyng,  as  a 
worthy  conqueror,  had  that  day  the  victorye  in  the  felde  of  Agencourt 
in  Picardie.1 

The  Duke  of  Orleance,  1.  149,  though  he  was  taken  prisoner 
in  the  battle,  is  not  named  by  Monstrelet  as  the  leader  of  the 
attack  on  Henry's  camp  : 

Et  adonc  vindrent  nouuelles  au  Boy  Anglois,  que  les  Fran£ois  les 
assailloient  par  derriere :  &  qu'ils  auoient  desia  prins  ses  sommiers 
&  autres  bagues,  laquelle  chose  estoit  veritable :  car  Robiiiet  de 
Bournonuille,  Rifflart  de  Clamasse,  Ysambart  d'Azmcourt,  &  aucuns 
autres  ho?mnes  d'armes,  accompagnez  de  six  ccns  pa'isans,  allerent 
ferir  au  bagaige  dudit  Roy  d'Angleterre.  Et  prindrent  lesdites 
bagues,  &  autres  choses,  auec  grand  nombre  de  cheuaux  desdits 
Anglois,  entre-temps  que  les  gardes  d'iceux  estoient  occupez  en  la 
bataille.  Monstrelet,  vol.  i.  p.  229. 

The  200,000  French  prisoners  is  an  impossible  number,  and 
Nicolas  does  not  give  any  at  all.  The  highest  estimate  of 
the  English  loss  is  1600  men.  From  Agincourt  Henry  marched 
to  Calais,  where  he  arrived  on  October  29.  On  November  14 
he  crossed  the  Channel  to  Dover,  and  on  the  24th  entered 
London  in  triumph : 

the  Cite  of  london,  where  ]>at  there  was  shewed  many  a  fayre 
syghte  at  all  the  conduytes  and  at  crosse  in  the  chepe,  as  in  heuenly 
arraye  of  aungels,  Archaungels,  patriarches,  prophites  and  Virgines, 
with  dyuers  melodies,  sensyng  and  syngyng,  to  welcome  oure  kyng ; 
And  alle  the  conduytes  rennyng  with  wyne.  (Cott.  Claud.  A.  viii. 
leaf  4,  back). 

The  last  three  verses  of  our  ballad  quicken  and  alter  events 
1  Nicolas  quotes  this  also,  p.  277-8,  at  foot. 


166 


AGINCOURTE   BATTELL. 


considerably.  It  was  not  till  after  many  a  weary  siege  and 
fight,  culminating  with  the  fall  of  Kouen  on  January  16,  1419,1 
that  Henry  saw  his  beautiful  bride,  and  that  for  one  day  only, 
on  May  30,  1419.  It  was  not  till  May  20,  1420,  that  he 
married  her  at  Troyes ;  not  till  December  of  that  year  that  he 
made  his  triumphal  entry  into  Paris  with  his  wife  and  his 
father-in-law,  the  French  King.  He  was  never  crowned  in 
Paris,  King  of  France,  but  his  wife  was  crowned  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  Queen  of  England,  on  St.  Matthew's  day,  September  2 1 , 
A.D.  1421. 


Henry  v.  A  councell  braue  2  our  TLing  did  hold 

w^th  many  a  lord  &  knight, 
in  3  whom  he  trulye  vnderstands 
4      how  ffrance  withheld  his  right. 


sends  an 


to  the 
French  King 


therefor  a  braue  embassador 

vnto  the  ~King  he  sent, 
thai  he  might  ffully  vnderstand 
8        his  mind  &  whole  entente, 


to  yield  him 
his  right, 


or  he'll  take 
it. 


desiring  him,  as  4  freindlye  sort, 

his  lawfull  wright  to  yeeld, 
or  else  he  sware  5  by  dint  of  sword 
12        to  win  the  same  in  feild. 


Charles  vi.  the  T&ing  of  ffrance,  w^th  all  his  lords 

who  6  heard  this  message  plaine, 
vnto  our  braue  embassador 
answers  15        (Jicl  answer  in  disdaine  j 


1  See  the  "Sege  of  Eoan,"  Archceol. 
xxi.  48  ;  xxii.  361.— F. 

2  grave,  P.O.  (Print?  Copy).— P. 

3  Of.  Conj[ecture].— P. 


4  in,  P.C.-P. 

5  voVd,  P.O.— P. 

6  which,  P.O.— P. 


AGINCOURTE    BATTELL. 


167 


20 


who  sayd,1  "  our  "King  was  yett  but  2  younge 

&  of  a  3  tender  age  ; 
wherfor  I  way  not  for  his  warres,4 

nor  care  not  for  his  rage,5 


that  he 
cares  not  for 
Henry's 
threats, 


"  whose  6  knowledge  eke  7  in  ffeats  of  armes, 

whose  sickill  8  [is]  but 9  verry  small, 
whose  10  tender  ioynts  more  flitter  are 
24         to  tosse  a  Tennys  ball." 

a  tunn  of  Tennys  balls  therfore, 

in  pryde  and  great  disdaine 
he  sends  to  Noble  Henery  the  51!1,11 
28         who  recornpenced  12  his  paine. 


and  sends 
him  a  tun  of 
tennis-balls. 


&  when  our  King  this  message  hard 

he  waxed  vrrath  in  his  13  hart, 
&  said  "  he  wold  such  balls  provyde 
32          that l3  shold  make  all  franco  to  smart. 


Henry 


an  army  great  14  our  King  prepared,15 

that  was  both  good  &  strong  ; 
&  from  Sowthampton  is  our  King 
36         with  all  his  Nauye  gone. 

he  landed  in  ffrance  both  safe  I6  and  sound 

with  all  his  warlike  traine  ; 
vnto  l7  a  towne  called  HarfHeete  first 18 
40         he  marched  vp  amaine. 


prepares  an 
army, 


lands  in 
France, 


And  feign'd,  P.O.— P. 
too,  P.O.— P. 
of  too,  P.O.— P. 
•we  weigh— of  his  war,  P.C— P. 
fear  we  his  courage,  P.C. — P. 
His,  P.O.— P. 
is,  P.O.— P. 
skill.— P. 

As  yet  but  &c.,  P.C.— P. 
10  His.— P 


11  He  sent  unto  our  noble  K? ,  P.C. 
—P. 

12  To  recompence,  P.C.— P. 
18  d.—P. 

14  then,  P.C.— P. 

15  did  raise,  P.C.— P. 

16  In  France  he  landed  safe,  &c.,  P.C 
—P. 

17  And  to,  P.C.— P. 

Is  of  Harfleur  strait,  P.C.— P. 


168 


AGINCOURTE   BATTELL. 


besieges 
Harfieur, 


and  when  he  had  beseeged  the  same, 

against  these  fensed  walls 
to  batter  downe  their  statlye  towers 
44         he  sent  his  English  Balls. 


bids  it  sur 
render 


or  he'll  beat 
it  to  the 
ground. 


1  And  he  bad  them  yeeld  [up  to  him  2] 

themselues  &  eke  their  towne, 
or  else  he  sware  vnto  the  earth 
48         with  cannon  3  to  beate  them  downe. 


[page  242] 


1  the  great  gunn  of  Caleis  was  vpsett,4 

he  mounted  against  those  walls  5 ; 
the  strongest  steepele  in  the  towne, 
52         he  threw  downe  bells  &  all. 


The  Govern 
ors  give  up 
the  town. 


1  then  those  that  were  the  gouemors 
their  woefull  hands  did  wringe  6 ; 
the  brought  their  Keyes  in  humble  sort 
56         vnto  our  gracious  K.ing. 


Henry 
garrisons  it, 


1  &  when  the  towne  was  woone  and  last, 

the  ffrenchmen  out  the  7  threw, 
&  placed  there  300  englishmen 
60         that  wold  to  him  be  true. 


and 
marches  to 


G4 


this  being  done,  our  Noble 

marched  vp  &  downe  that 9  land, — 
&  not  a  ffrenchman  ffor  his  liffe 

durst  once  his  fierce  withstand, — 


1  These  4  stanz!   not  in  print. — P. 

2  MS.  cut  away.     It  has  more  words. 
— F.     He  bade  the  governors  give  up. 
—P. 

3  guns.— P. 

4  then.— P. 


5  was  •  •  'gainst  their  wall. — P. 

6  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 

7  he.— P. 

8  done  our  noble  EngKsh  King,  P.C, 
—P. 

9  the,  P.O.— P. 


68 


AGINCOURTE   BATTELL. 

till l  he  came  to  Agincourt ; 

&  2  as  it  was  his  chance, 
to  ffind  3  the  ItLing  in  readinesse, 

with  him  was  all  the  power  of  ffrance, 


where  the 
French  King 
is, 


a  mightye  host  they  4  had  prepared 

off  armed  souldiers  then, 
which  was  noe  lesse  (the  chronicle  sayes)  5 
72         then  600000  6  men.* 


with  000,000 
men. 


the  J&ng  of  ffrance  that  well  did  know 

the  number  of  our  men, 
in  vanting  pride  vnto  our  Kmj/ 
76         sends  one  of  his  heralds  8  then 


Charles 
sends 


a  herald 


to  vnderstand  what  he  wold  giuo 

for  the  9  ransome  of  his  liffe, 
when  in  that  feild  he  had  taken  him  10 
80         amiddst  that  n  bloody  striffe. 


to  ask  Henry 
what  ransom 
he'll  pay  for 
his  life. 


&  when 12  our  ~King  the  Message  heard,13 

did  straight  the  14  answer  make, 
saying,  "  before  that  thing  shold  15  come  to  passe, 
84         many  16  of  their  harts  shold  17  ake  ! 


Henry 
answers 


Until,  P.O.— P. 

Where,  P.O.— P. 

He    found.— P.      him    was,    1.    68, 
marked  out  by  P.  conj[ecturally], — F. 

He,  P.O.— P. 

by  just  account,  P.O. — P. 

40,000,  P.O.— P. 

Between    18  and  19l.h  Stanza  of  ye 
MS.  is  the  following  in  Print: — 
Which  sight  did  much  amaze  our  king, 
For  he  and  *  all  his  host 

Not  passing  fifteen  thousand  had, 


Accounted  at  the  most. — P. 

8  Did  send  a  Herald,  P.O.— P. 

9  d.—P. 

10  he  in  field  sh'd  ...  bo,  P.O.— P. 

11  their,  P.O.— P. 

12  then  .  .  .—P. 

13  with  cheerful  heart. — P. 

14  this.— P. 

15  thing  shold,  cut  out  by  P F. 

16  some. — P. 

17  shall,  P.O.— P. 


*  n.-P. 


170 


AGINCOURTE   BATTELL. 


"  My  heart's 
blood." 


88 


vnto  your  proud  presumptuss  prince 

declare  this  thing,"  q^oth  hee, 
iny  owne  harts  blood  shall  pay  the  price  ; 

nought 1  else  he  getts  of  me."  2 


The  French  then  all  the  night  the  frenchman  Lyeii, 

with  triumphe,  mirth,  &  loy ; 
the  next  morning  they  mad  full  accomp[t] 
92         our  Armye  to  destroye. 


play  at  dice 
for  the 
English, 


&  for  our  JLing  &  all  his  Lords 

at  dice  the  4  playd  apace, 
&  for  our  comon  souldiers  coates 
96         they  set  a  prize  but  base, 


and  value 
their  red 
coats  at  Sd.t 
white  at  4d. 


8  pence  for  a  redd  coate,5 

&  a  groate  was  sett  to  a  white ; fi 
because  they  7  color  was  soe  light, 
100         they  sett  noe  better  buy  itt.8 


Henry  en 
courages  his 


the  cheerfull  day  at  last  was  come  ; 

our  ~K.ing  w^th  Noble  hart 
did  pray  his  valliant  soldiers  all 
104         to  play  a  worthy e  part, 


&  not  to  shrinke  from  fainting  foes, 

whose  fearfull  harts  in  ffeeld 
wold  by  their  feirce  couragious  stroakes 
108         be  soone  in-forced  9  to  yeeld  ; 


1  none. — P. 

2  Seven  Stanz8  following  not  in  Print. 
-P. 

8  Making  account  the  next  morning, 

or, 
They  made  &c.— P.     del.  full.— P. 


4  they.— P. 

5  coat  was  set. — P. 

8  And  fourpence  for  a  white.— P. 

7  They  put  in  brackets  by  P.  conj.  — F. 

8  by't.— P. 

9  enforced. — P. 


AGINCOURTE    BATTELL.  171 


"  regard  not  of  l  their  multitude,  "  Don't 

mind  the 

tho  they  are  more  then  wee,  French 

numbers  ; 

for  eche  of  vs  well  able  is  each  of  us 

can  kill 

112         to  beate  downe  ffrenchmen  3  ; 


K 

them  ;   but 


"  yett  let  euerye  man  provide  himselfe  2  let  every 

.  .    ,  •,      ,    t  archer  get  a 

a  strong  *  substantial!  stake,  stake  to  stop 

&  set  it  right  before  himselfe, 
116         the  horsmans  force  to  breake." 


the  horse 
men.' 


&  then  4  bespake  the  Duke  of  yorke  The  Duke  of 

"  0  noble  King"  said  hee, 

"  the  leading  of  that 5  battell  braue  leads  the 

120         vouch[s]afe  to  giue  it  6  me  !  " 


"  god  ame^cy,  cosen  yorke,"  sayes  hee,  Henry 

"  I  doe  7  grant  thee  thy  request ; 
Marche  you  8  on  couragiouslye,  [page  243] 

124         &  I  will  guide  9  the  rest."  the  rest. 


then  came  the  bragginge  frenchmen  downe  The  French 

with  cruell  10  force  &  might, 
with  whome  our  noble  King  began 
128        a  harde  &  cruell  night. 

our  English  archers  1  1  discharged  their  shafts      Our  archers 

as  thicke  as  hayle  in  skye,12 

&  13  many  a  frenchman  in  that  14  feelde  km  many; 

132        that  happy  day  did  dye  ; 


1  you,  or  then.  —  P.  7  d[ele].  —  P. 

2  himselfe  is  in  1.  114  in  the  MS.  P.           8  then—  thou,  P.O.—  P. 
marks  it  to  go  to  1.  113.    yett  is  marked  9  lead,  P.O.—  P. 

out  by  P.—  V.  10  greater,  PC.—  P. 

8  But  yet  let  every  man  provide  u  d.  English.  [Insert]  they,  P.O.  —  P. 

A  strong  &c.—  P.  12  from  skye,  P.O.—  P. 

4  With  that,  P.O.—  P.  1S  That,  P.O.—  P. 

5  this  (the),  P.O.—  P.  M  the,  P.C.—  P. 

6  to,  P.O.—  P. 


172 


AGINCOURTE   BATTELL. 


their  stakes 
stop  the 
horse. 


10,000 
French  are 
slain, 

10,000 
taken, 


and  Henry 
wins  the 
day. 


136 


1  ffor  the  horssmen  stumbled  on  our  stakes, 

&  soe  their  Hues  they  lost ; 
&  many  a  frenchman  there  was  tane 

for  pn'soners  to  their  2  cost. 


10000  ffrenchmen  3  there  were  slaine 

of  enemies  in  the  ffeeld, 
&  neere  as  many  prisoners  tane  4 
140          thai  day  were  fforced  to  yeeld. 

thus  had  our  ~King  a  happy  day 

&  victorye  ouer  firance  ; 
he  brought  his  foes  vnder  his  ffeete  5 
144          that  late  in  pride  did  prance. 


While  the 
fight  is  going 
on, : 
comes 


6  when  they  were  at  the  Maine  battell  there 

with  all  their  might  &  forces,  then  7 
a  crye  came  ffrom  our  English  tents 
148          that  we  were  robbed  all  them  8  ; 


that  the 
French  have 
plundered 


tents. 


Henry 


for  the  Duke  of  Orleance,  w^th  a  band  of  men, 

to  our  English  tents  they  came  9 ; 
all 10  our  le wells  &  treasure  that  they  haue  taken, 
152          &  many  of  our  boyes  n  haue  slaine. 

much  greeved  was  K.ing  12  Harry  therat, — 

this  was  against13  the  law  of  armes  then, — 
comands  euerye  souldier  on  paine  of  death 


orders  all 
the  French 

prisoners  to       156          to  slay  euerye  prisoner  then.14 

be  slain,  J  J     r 


This  stanza  not  in  Print. — P. 

[prisoner--]  his,  [P.]C.— P. 

men  that  day,  P.O.— P. 

(d.  P.O.)— P. 

them  quickly  under  foot,  P.O. — P. 

The  Nine  Stanz".  following  not  in 
print,  but  instead  the  annexed  stanza 
vizt. : — 

The  Lord  preserve  our  noble  King 

And  grant  to  him  likewise 

The  upper  hand  and  victory 
Of  all  his  enemies !  — P. 


7  force  and  might. — P. 

8  they  were  robbed  quite. — P. 

9  Of  men  unto  them  came. — P. 

10  And  prefixed;   lewells  #,  and  that 
marked  out  by  P. — F. 

11  all  our  boys,  so  ShakespT  —P. 

12  the  King.— P. 

13  Being  'gainst.— P.  and  then  deleted. 
—F. 

14  And  bade  y™  slay  their  Prisoners 

For  to  revenge  these  hurms. — P. 


AGINCOURTE   BATTELL. 


173 


200000  l  ffrenctiemen  our  Englishmen  had, 

some  2,  &  some  had  one  2  ; 

euerye  one  was  commanded  by  sound  of  trumpett 
160          to  slay  his  prisoner  then.3 

&  then  the  followed  vpon  the  maine  battell ; 

the  ffrenchmen  the  fled  then  4 
towards  the  citye  of  Paris 
164          as  fast  as  the  5  might  gone. 

but  then  ther  was  neucr  a  pecre  w/th-in  france  6 

of  all  those  7  Nobles  then, 
of  all  those  worthye  Disse  peeres, 

durst  come  to  ~King  Harry8  then. 


168 


172 


200,000  of 
them. 


The  French 
flee  towards 
Paris, 


but  then  Katherine,  the  Kings  fayre  daughter  there,* 

being  proued  apparant  his  heyre, 
with  her  maidens  10  in  most  sweet  attire 
to  ~K.ing  Harry  did  repayre  ; 1 1 


and  no 
Duzeper 
dares  meet 
King  Harry; 

but  the 

Princess 

Katharine 


comes  and 
asks  him 


to  marry 
her. 


&  when  shee  came  before  our  l2  Kmr/, 

shee  kneeled  vpon  her  knee, 
desiring  him  13  that  his  warres  wold  l4  cease, 
176          &  that 13  he  her  loue  wold  bee. 

there-vpon  our  English  Lords  then  agreed  15 

With  the  Peeres  of  ffrance  then  16  ; 
soe  he  Marryed  Katherine,  the  JLinqs  faire  daughter,   He  docs' aml 

J  'is  crowned 

180  &  was  crowned  JLmg  in  Paris  then.17 


ffins. 


King  in 
Paris. 


1  10,000.— P.    Both  men  deleted.— F. 
*  Some  one  and  some  had  two. — P. 
8  And  each  was  bid  by  Trumpets  sound 

To  slay  his  prisoner  tho, 
(or) 

His  Prisoner  to  slo. — P. 

4  anon.— P.  the,  1.  162,  and  $;  the  and 
vp  of  1.  161  deleted  by  P.— F. 

5  they. — P. 

6  Then  was   there   never  a  Peer  in 
France.  Conj. — P. 

Then  could  there  not  be  found  in  France 
Of  their  Nobles  all  or  Some.— P. 


7  Not  one  of  all  those. — P. 

8  to  K?  Harry  come. — P. 

9  King's  Daughter  fair,  [P.]C. — P. 

10  all— Maids.— P.     then,  1.    169,  hie, 
1.  170,  most,  1.  171,  marked  rf  by  P.-F. 

11  Did  to  our  King  rep1:6,  [P.]C.— P. 

12  our.— P. 

13  d.—P. 

14  might.— P. 

18  OurKff&  — Lords.— P. 

10  Soon  with  the  French  agreed. — -P. 
17  So  at  Paris  he  fair  Kath".p  wed 

And  crowned  was  with  speoJ.— P. 


174 


THERE  are  two  sides  to  Early  English  Literature ;  one  gay,  the 
other  grave  ;  one  light,  the  other  earnest :  and  a  man  who  comes 
to  the  subject  fresh  from  struggles  in  the  cause  of  reform, 
social  and  political,  and  meets  first  with  the  grave  and  earnest 
side  of  our  early  writings,  is  struck  with  delight  and  surprise  at 
finding  that  in  the  old  days,  too,  protesters  against  wrong  existed, 
and  that  English  writers  denounced  from  the  depths  of  their 
soul,  in  words  of  sternest  indignation,  the  oppressions  and  abuses 
from  which  the  English  poor  of  their  days  suffered.  Having 
passed  myself  from  those  Morning  Chronicle  letters  on  "  Labour 
and  the  Poor  " — which  in  1849-50  revealed  so  much  of  the  sad 
state  of  our  workmen, — from  meetings  of  sweated  tailors,  over 
worked  bakers,  and  ballast-heavers  forced  into  drunkenness,  to 
the  pages  of  Roberd  of  Brunne's  Handlyng  Synne,  Langlande's 
Vision  of  Piers  Ploughman,  Piers  Ploughman 's  Crede,  and 
works  of  like  kind  from  1303  to  1560, — I  can  bear  witness  to 
the  deep  impression  made  on  me  by  the  noble  and  fervent  spirits 
of  our  early  men,  rebuking  the  selfish,  denouncing  the  hard 
hearted,  calling  down  God's  judgment  on  the  oppressor ;  striving, 
in  their  time  too,  to  leave  the  land  better  than  they  found  it. 
As  one  looked  backward  to  these  sources  of  the  river  of  English 
life,  one  heard  a  great  murmur  of  wrong  rise  from  the  torrents' 
currents,  one  saw  the  stream  turbid  with  the  woes  of  "  humble 
folk ; "  but  there  were  never  wanting  voices,  ordering  the  one  to 
be  stilled  in  orderly  channels,  and  the  other  cleared.  Further 

1  This  is  a  satirical  Allegory:  and  seems  not  very  ancient,  vid.  St.  13,  v.  4.— P. 


CONSCIENCE.  175 

study  of  our  early  writers  did  not  lessen  this  impression :  for 
though  the  bright  side  came,  though  Chaucer's  living  sketches 
portrayed  all  that  was  merriest  in  early  days,  yet  still  there  was 
method  in  his  mirth ;  abuses  in  religion  and  social  life  were 
exposed,  none  the  less  effectively  because  with  a  joke ;  and 
when  he  spoke  seriously,  he  too  declared,  "Thilke  that  thay 
clepe  thralles,  ben  Groddes  people ;  for  humble  folk  ben  Christes 
frendes :  thay  ben  contubernially  with  the  Lord :  .  .  .  certes, 
extorciouns  and  despit  of  our  undirlinges  is  dampnable." 
(Persones  Tale,  De  avaritia.)  To  their  honour  be  it  said,  our 
early  writers  were  on  the  weak  man's  side  against  the  strong, 
and  did  what  in  them  lay  to  lessen  the  vice  of  the  world.  It  is 
this  which  makes  the  lovers  of  them  not  only  surprised,  but  in 
dignant,  at  the  willing  and  wilful  ignorance  in  which  men  of  our 
day  remain  with  regard  to  them.  Our  moderns  will  not  take  a 
few  days'  trouble  to  master  their  language;  they  care  little  fortheir 
thoughts  :  but  when  once  the  readers  of  the  nineteenth — or  is  it 
to  be  the  twentieth  ? — century  awake  to  the  recognition  of  the 
fact  that  there  is  an  Early  English  Literature  worth  studying,  they 
will  be  ashamed  of  their  countrymen's  long  neglect,  and  gladly 
acknowledge  the  value  of  the  treasures  they  will  find — food  for 
all  the  best  impulses  of  the  human  soul.  So  far  as  I  know,  justice 
has  never  yet  been  done  to  this  spirit  of  our  early  literature  by  any 
writer  on  it,  except  the  latest — Professor  Morley.  He,  a  man 
of  mind  akin  with  that  of  our  old  men — fresh  from  half  a  life 
spent  in  struggles  for  reform  in  health-laws,  education,  politics, 
and  religion,  ever  backing  the  right  and  fighting  the  wrong — has 
come  to  the  old  books  and  said  to  them,  not  only  "  what  were  you 
translated  or  altered  from,  what  manuscripts  are  there  of  you  ?  " 
but  first  and  mainly,  "  what  do  you  mean?  what  has  the  spirit  of 
your  writer  got  to  say  to  the  spirits  of  me  and  men  here  now  ? '' 
And  the  old  bones  (that  were  nothing  more  to  so  many)  have 
taken  flesh  again  and  answered  him,  have  stretched  out  their  hands 


1 76  CONSCIENCE. 

and  gript  his  as  a  friend's ;  and  he  has  put  down  their  answer  for 
us  in  his  own  way  in  divers  places  of  his  genial  and  able  book,1 
one  of  which  I  quote.  He  is  speaking  of  Grower's  Vox  Cla- 
mantis,  written  on  Wat  Tyler's  rebellion. 

"  In  that  earlier  work,  though  written  with  vigour  and  ease  in 
Latin,  the  language  of  literature  which  alone  then  seemed  to  be 
lasting,  John  Grower  spoke  especially  and  most  essentially  the 
English  mind.  To  this  day  we  hear  among  our  living  country 
men,  as  was  to  be  heard  in  Grower's  time  and  long  before, 
the  voice  passing  from  man  to  man  that — in  spite  of  admixture 
with  the  thousand  defects  incident  to  human  character — sustains 
the  keynote  of  our  literature,  and  speaks  from  the  soul  of  our 
history  the  secret  of  our  national  success.  It  is  the  voice  that 
expresses  the  persistent  instinct  of  the  English  mind  to  find 
out  what  is  unjust  among  us  and  undo  it,  to  find  out  duty  to 
be  done  and  do  it,  as  God's  bidding.  We  twist  religion  into 
many  a  mistaken  form.  With  thoiight  free  and  opinions  mani 
fold  we  have  run  through  many  a  trial  of  excess  and  of  its 
answering  reaction.  In  battle  for  main  principles  we  have 
worked  on  through  political  and  social  conflicts  in  which  often, 
no  doubt,  unworthy  men  rising  to  prominence  have  misused 
for  a  short  time  dishonest  influence.  But  there  has  been  no 
real  check  to  the  great  current  of  national  thought,  the  stream 
from  which  the  long  line  of  our  English  writers,  like  the  trees 
by  the  fertile  river-bank,  derive  their  health  and  strength. 
We  have  seen  how  persistently  that  slow  and  earnest  English 
labour  towards  God  and  the  right  was  maintained  for  six 
centuries  before  the  time  of  Chaucer,  from  the  day  when 
Csedmon  struck  the  first  note  of  our  strain  of  English  song  with 
the  words :  *  For  us  it  is  very  right  that  we  praise  with  our 
words,  love  in  minds,  the  Keeper  of  the  Heavens,  Glory  King  of 
Hosts.'  It  was  the  old  spirit  still  in  Chaucer s  time  that  worked 
in  the  *  Vision  of  Piers  Plowman,'  and  spoke  through  the  Voice 
of  Gower  as  of  one  crying  in  the  wilderness,  ( Prepare  ye  the 
way  of  the  Lord.'  It  needed  not  in  those  days  that  a  man 
should  be  a  Wicliffite  to  see  the  griefs  of  the  Church  and 
people,  and  to  trace  them  to  their  root  in  duties  unperformed. 
Gower's  name  is  a  native  one,  possibly  Cymric,  but  derived  pro 
bably  in  or  near  Kent,  from  'the  old  Saxon  word  for  marsh- 

1  English  Writers,  vol.  ii.  pt.  i.  p.  106-7. 


CONSCIENCE.  177 

country,  of  which  there  was  much  about  the  Thames  mouth, 
Gyrwa-land.  His  genius  is  unmixed  Anglo-Saxon,  closely  allied 
to  that  of  the  literature  before  the  Conquest,  in  the  simple  ear 
nestness  of  a  didactic  manner  leavened  by  no  bold  originality  of 
fancy.  In  his  Latin  verse  Grower  writes  easily,  and,  having  his 
soul  in  his  theme,  forcibly.  But  he  tells  that  which  he  knows, 
and  invents  rarely.  His  few  inventions  also,  as  of  the  dream  of 
transformed  beasts  that  represent  Wat  Tyler's  rabble,  of  the 
ship  of  the  state  at  sea,  of  his  landing  at  an  island  full  of  turmoil 
which  an  old  man  described  to  him  as  Britain,  are  contrivances 
wanting  in  the  subtlety  and  the  audacity  of  true  imaginative 
genius.  He  does  not  see  as  he  writes,  and  so  write  that  all  they 
who  read  see  with  him.  But  in  his  own  old  English  or  Anglo- 
Saxon  way,  he  tries  to  put  his  soul  into  his  work.  Thus,  in  the 
'  Vox  Clamantis '  we  have  heard  him  asking  that  the  soul  of  his 
book,  not  its  form,  be  looked  to  ;  and  speaking  the  truest  English 
in  such  sentences  as  that  f  the  eye  is  blind,  and  the  ear  deaf, 
that  convey  nothing  down  to  the  heart's  depth  ;  and  the  heart 
that  does  not  utter  what  it  knows  is  as  a  live  coal  under  ashes. 
If  I  know  little,  there  may  be  another  whom  that  little  will 
help.  Poor,  I  give  of  my  scanty  store,  for  I  would  rather  be  of 
small  use  than  of  none.  But  to  the  man  who  believes  in  (rod 
no  power  is  unattainable  if  he  but  rightly  feels  his  work;  he 
ever  has  enough  whom  God  increases.'  This  is  the  old  spirit  of 
Caedmon  and  of  Bede,  in  which  are  laid,  while  the  earth  lasts, 
the  strong  foundations  of  our  literature.  It  was  the  strength  of 
such  a  temper  in  him  that  made  Grower  strong,  (  God  knows,' 
he  says  again,  f  my  wish  is  to  be  useful ;  that  is  the  prayer  that 
directs  my  labour.'  And  while  he  thus  touches  the  root  of  his 
country's  philosophy,  the  form  of  his  prayer  that  what  he  has 
written  may  be  what  he  would  wish  it  to  be,  is  still  a  thoroughly 
sound  definition  of  good  English  writing.  His  prayer  is  that 
there  may  be  no  word  of  untruth,  ancl  that  'each  word  may 
answer  to  the  thing  it  speaks  of,  pleasantly  and  fitly  ;  that  he 
may  flatter  in  it  no  one,  and  seek  in  it  no  praise  above  the  praise 
of  Grod.  Give  me,'  he  asks,  ( that  there  shall  be  less  vice  and 
more  virtue  for  my  speaking.'  " 

So  far  as  regards  the  spirit  of  our  early  literature,  I  believe 
that  Professor  Morley  is  justified  in  every  word  that  he  has  said. 
Granted  the  occasional  coarseness  of  expressions  in  it  to  us, 
granted  many  another  shortcoming,  the  spirit  of  it  is  noble  and 

VOL.  II.  N 


178  CONSCIENCE. 

worthy  of  honour,  as  its  words  are  worthy  of  study,  by  every 
Englishman. 

The  present  poem,  Conscience,  is  one  effort,  a  late  one,  in  the 
strain  of  that  "  slow  and  earnest  labour  towards  (rod  and  the 
right "  of  which  Professor  Morley  speaks.  Differing  as  it  does 
in  word  and  form  from  the  Ayenbite  of  Inwyt  (or  Remorse  of 
Conscience)  which  Dan  Michel  of  North  Gate,  "  ane  brother  of 
the  cloystre  of  saynt  Austin  of  Canterburi,"  fulfilled  in  the 
year  of  our  lordes  bearing,  1340,  it  has  yet  the  same  aim, 

£is  boc  is  ywrite 

uor  englisse  men,  J>et  hi  wyte  (may  learn) 

hou  hi  ssolle  ham-zelue  ssriue, 

and  maki  ham  klene  ine  Jnse  liue. 

With  Richard  E-olle  of  Hampole  in  1345  (or  thereabouts),  its 
writer  desires  that  by  his  Pricke  of  Conscience  men  may 

Be  stird  )>ar-by  til  ryghtwyse  way, 
)>at  es,  tille  J?e  way  of  gude  lyfyng, 
And  at  >e  last  be  broght  til  gude  endyng.  (p.  258,  1.  9611.) 

With  Langlande,  our  Conscience  tries  the  Court,  the  Lawyers, 
the  Landlords,  the  Merchants,  the  Clergy ;  and  all  he  finds  in 
the  possession  of  his  enemies.  Covetousness,  Lechery,  Usury, 
Avarice,  and  Pride  have  their  way  with  all ;  the  husbandmen  are 
left  desolate  so  that  they  cannot  help  the  poor,  and  Conscience  is 
driven  out  to  lodge  in  the  wood,  and  eat  hips  and  haws,  his  only 
comforters  being  Mercy,  Pity,  and  Almsdeeds.  In  early  times 
Langlande's  Conscience  fared  better :  he  got  the  King  on  his 
side ;  stood  his  ground  well ;  reproved  Mede  or  Bribery ;  brought 
sinners  to  repentance,  sent  them  seeking  for  truth,  and  remained 
master  of  the  situation.  (See  Langlande's  Vision  of  Piers 
the  Ploughman,  ed.  Skeat,  E.  E.  Text  Soc.  1867,  Passus  3-5.) 

A  contrast  of  the  different  evils  complained  of  by  reforming 
writers  in  different  ages,  and  the  comparative  prominence  given 
to  each  vice  by  each  writer,  could  not  fail  to  bring  out  the  cha- 


CONSCIENCE.  179 

racteristics  of  the  successive  periods  of  our  social  history,  and 
be  of  great  interest.  But  though  I  have  some  material  for  it, 
want  of  space  forbids  my  attempting  it  here.  Still,  the  point 
may  be  illustrated  by  looking  at  the  clergy's  hinderers  in  their 
good  work  of  giving,  as  mentioned  in  the  present  poem, 

for  their  wiues  &  their  children  soe  hange  them  vpun, 
that  whosoeuer  giues  alines  deeds  they  will  giue  none, 

when  set  beside  Roberd  of  Brunne's  complaints,  in  his  Handlyny 
Synne,  about  the  priest's  mare  or  concubine,  and  the  earlier  one 
of  the  Old  English  Homilies  (?  about  1200  A.D.)  that  Mr. 
Richard  Morris  will  edit,  probably  in  1869,  for  the  Early  English 
Text  Society  : 

And  o5re  fele  lerdemeri  speken  alse  lewede  alse  ure  driliten  seide 
purh  anes  prophetes  muSe.  Erit  sicut  populus  sacerdos.  Prest  sal 
leden  his  lif  alse  lewede  mam  .  and  swo  hie  dofi  nuSe  '  and  sumdel 
werse.  For  J>e  lewede  man  wur8e<5  his  spuse  mid  clones  more  ]>ane  mid 
him  seluen.  and  prest  naht  sis  (  =  so  his)  chireche,  ]>e  is  his  spuse  ' 
ac  his  daie,  ]>e  is  his  hore  .  awlencS  hire  mid  clones  .  more  ]>an  him 
seluen.  De  chirche  cloSes  ben  to-brokene  i  and  ealde  .  and  his 
wiues  shule  ben  hole  '  and  newe .  His  alter  cloS  great  and  sole  '  and 
hire  chemise  smal  and  hwit .  and  te  albe  sol '  and  hire  smoc  hwit. 
pe  haued-line  sward  i  and  hire  wimpel  wit  .  oSer  maked  geleu  mid 
safFran.  De  meshakele  of  medeme  fustain  .  and  hire  mentel  grene 
ofier  burnet.  De  corporeals  sole'  and  unshapliche  .  hire  handcloSes  . 
and  hire  bord  clones  maked  wite  and  histliche  on  to  siene.  De  caliz 
of  tin  i  and  hire  nap  of  mazere  and  ring  of  golde.  And  is  ]>e  prest 
swo  muchele  forcuSere  .  ]>ane  ]>e  lewede.  Swo  he  wur^etS  his  hore 
more  f>an  his  spuse. — Homilies  in  Trimly  Coll.  MS.A.v.  1200. 

Translation  by   Mr.  Richard  Morris. 

And  many  other  learned  men  speak  as  the  unlearned,  as  our  Lord 
spake  through  the  mouth  of  a  prophet,  Erit  siciit,  S>-c.  The  priest 
shall  lead  his  life  as  the  laity ;  and  so  they  do  now,  and  somewhat 
worse,  for  the  layman  honoureth  his  spouse  with  clothes  more  than 
himself,  and  the  priest  not  so  his  church,  which  is  his  spouse ;  but 
his  day  (maid  servant),  who  is  his  whore,  whom  he  adorneth  with 
clothes  more  than  himself.  The  church  cloths  are  ragged  and  old, 

N  2 


180  CONSCIENCE. 

and  his  woman's  shall  be  whole  and  new.  His  altar  cloth  great 
(coarse)  and  dirty  (soiled),  and  her  chemise  small  and  white ;  and 
the  alb  soiled,  and  her  smock  white  ;  the  head  linen  black,  and 
her  wimple  (neck-cloth)  white,  or  made  yellow  with  saffron.  The 
masscloth  of  paltry  fustian,  and  her  mantle  green  or  biirnet ;  the 
corporas  soiled  and  badly  made,  her  hand-cloths  and  her  table 
cloths  made  white  and  pleasant  to  the  sight.  The  chalice  of  tin,  and 
her  cup  of  maser  (a  sort  of  hard  wood  gilded  or  inlaid  with  jewels), 
and  her  ring  of  gold ;  and  so  the  priest  is  much  worse  than  the  laity 
for  he  honoureth  his  whore  more  than  his  spouse. 

On  the  question  of  the  rents  asked  by  grasping  landlords,  I 
may  quote  a  passage  from  Ascham  used  in  the  Forewords  to  The 
Babees  Poke,  &c.  (E.  E.  T.  Soc.,  1868). 

"  He  says  to  the  Duke  of  Somerset  on  Nov.  21,  1547  (Works, 
ed.  Giles,  i.  140-1), 

"  '  Qui  auctores  sunt  tantae  miseriaB  ?  .  .  .  Sunt  illi  qui  hodie 
passim,  in  Anglia,  prsedia  monasteriorum  gravissimis  annuis 
reditibus  auxerunt.  Hinc  omnium  rerum  exauctum  pretium ;  hi 
homines  expilant  totam  rempublicarn.  Villici  et  coloni  universi 
laborant,  parcnnt,  corradunt,  ut  istis  satisfaciant.  .  .  Hinc  tot 
familiaB  dissipatse,  tot  domus  collapsse  .  .  Hinc,  quod  omnium 
miserrimum  est,  nobile  illud  decus  et  robur  Anglia3,  nomen,  in- 
quam,  Yomanorum  Anglorum,  fractum  et  collisum  est 

NAM  VITA,  QILE  NUNC  VIVITUR  A  PLURIMIS,  NON  VITA,  SED  MISERIA 
EST.' 

(When  will  these  words  cease  to  be  true  of  our  land  ?  They 
should  be  burnt  into  all  our  hearts.) " 

Harrison,  in  1577,  speaks  more  easily  about  rents,  and  as  he 
deals  also  with  the  question  of  Usury  or  Interest  noted  in  our 
poem,  I  make  a  long  quotation  from  his  Description  of  England, 
a  book  invaluable  to  the  student  of  the  England  of  Shakespeare's 
days,  and  which  I  hope  we  shall  soon  reprint  in  the  Extra  Series 
of  our  Early  English  Text  Society.  Harrison  is  speaking  of  the 
"  Three  things  greatlie  amended  in  England  "  in  his  day  :  "(1.) 
Chimnies;  (2.) -Hard  lodging;  (3.)  Furniture  of  household," 
and  of  the  latter  says  : 

The  third  thing  they  tell  of,  is   the  exchange    of  vessell,  as    of 


CONSCIENCE.  181 

treene  platters  into  pewter,  and  woodden  spoones  into  siluer  or  tin. 
For  so  common  were  all  sorts  of  treene  stuffe  in  old  time,  that  a  man 
should  hardlie  find  foure  peeces  of  pewter  (of  which  one  was  perad- 
uenture  a  salt)  in  a  good  farmer's  house,  and  yet  for  all  this  fmgalitie  ] 
(if  it  may  so  be  iustly  called)  they  were  scarse  able  to  liue  and  paie 
their  rents  at  their  daies  without  selling  of  a  cow,  or  an  horsse,  or 
more,  although  they  paid  but  foure  pounds  at  the  vttermost  by  the 
yeare.  Such  also  was  their  pouertie,  that  if  some  one  od  farmer  or 
husbandman  had  beene  at  the  alehouse,  a  thing  greatlie  vsed  in  those 
daies,  amongst  six  or  seuen  of  his  neighbours,  and  there  in  a  brauerie 
to  shew  what  store  he  had,  did  cast  downe  his  pursse,  and  therein  a 
noble  or  six  shillings  in  siluer  vnto  them  (for  few  such  men  then 
cared  for  gold  bicause  it  was  not  so  readie  paimeiit,  and  they  were 
oft  inforced  to  giue  a  penie  for  the  exchange  of  an  angell)  it  was 
verie  likelie  that  all  the  rest  could  not  laie  downe  so  much  against  it : 
whereas  in  my  time,  although  peraduenture  foure  pounds  of  old  rent 
be  improued  to  fortie,  fiftie,  or  an  hundred  pounds,  yet  will  the 
farmer  (as  another  pal  me  or  date  tree)  thinke  his  gaines  verie  small 
toward  the  end  of  his  terme,  if  he  haue  not  six  or  seuen  yeares 
rent  lieng  by  him,  therewith  to  purchase  a  new  lease,  beside  a  faire 
garnish  of  pewter  on  his  cupbord,  with  so  much  more  in  od  vessell 
going  about  the  house,  three  or  foure  featherbeds,  so  manie  couerlids 
and  carpets  of  tapistrie,  a  siluer  salt,  a  bowle  for  wine  (if  not  an 
whole  neast)  and  a  dozzen  of  spoones  to  furnish  vp  the  sute.  This 
also  he  taketh  to  be  his  owne  cleere,  for  what  stocke  of  monie 
soeuer  he  gathereth  &  laieth  vp  in  all  his  yeares,  it  is  often  seene, 
that  the  landlord  will  take  such  order  with  him  for  the  same,  when 
he  renueth  his  lease,  which  is  commonlie  eight  or  six  yeares  before  the 
old  be  expired  (sith  it  is  now  growen  almost  to  a  custome,  that  if  he 
come  not  to  his  lord  so  long  before,  another  shall  step  in  for  a  reuer- 
sion,  and  so  defeat  him  out  right)  that  it  shall  neuer  trouble  him  more 
than  the  haire  of  his  beard,  when  the  barber  hath  washed  and 
shauen  it  from  his  chin.  And  as  they  commend  these,  so  (beside  the 
decaie  of  housekeeping  whereby  the  poore  haue  beene  relieued)  they 
speake  also  of  three  things  that  are  growen  to  be  verie  grieuous  vnto 
them,  to  wit,  the  inhansing  of  rents,  latelie  mentioned ;  the  dailie 
oppression  of  copiholders,  whose  lords  seeke  to  bring  their  poore 
tenants  almost  into  plaine  seruitude  and  miserie,  daily  deuising  new 
meanes,  and  seeking  vp  all  the  old  how  to  cut  them  shorter  and 

1  The  sidenote  here  is  "  This  was  in  the  time  of  generall  idlenesse." 


182  CONSCIENCE. 

shorter,  doubling,  trebling,  and  now  &  then  seuen  times  increasing 
their  fines,  drilling  them  also  for  euerie  trifle  to  loose  and  forfeit  their 
tenures  (by  whome  the  greatest  part  of  the  realme  dooth  stand  and  is 
mainteined)  to  the  end  they  may  fleece  them  yet  more,  which  is  a 
lamentable  hering.  The  third  thing  they  talke  of  is  vsurie,  a  trade 
brought  in  by  the  lewes,  now  perfectlie  practised  almost  by  euerie 
Christian,  and  so  commonlie,  that  he  is  accompted  but  for  a  foole 
that  dooth  lend  his  monie  for  nothing.  In  time  past  it  was  SOTS  pro 
sorte,  that  is,  the  principall  onelie  for  the  principall  ;  but  now  beside 
that  which  is  aboue  the  principall  properlie  called  Vsura,  we  chalenge 
Foenus,  that  is  commoditie  of  soile,  &  fruits  of  the  earth,  if  not  the 
ground  it  selfe.  In  time  past  also  one  of  the  hundred  was  much, 
from  thence  it  rose  vnto  two,  called  in  Latine  Vsura,  Ex  sextante ; 
three,  to  wit  Ex  quadrante  ;  then  to  foure,  to  wit  Ex  triente  ,  then  to 
fiue,  which  is  Ex  qidncunce  ;  then  to  six,  called  Ex  semisse,  &c.  :  as 
the  accompt  of  the  Assis  ariseth,  and  comming  at  the  last  vnto 
Vsura  ex  asse,  it  amounteth  to  twelue  in  the  hundred,  and  therefore 
the  Latines  call  it  Centesima,  for  that  in  the  hundred  moneth  it 
doubleth  the  principall ;  but  more  of  this  elsewhere.  See  Cicero 
against  Verres,  Demosthenes  against  Aphobus,  and  Athenceus  lib.  13.  in 
fine :  and  when  thou  hast  read  them  well,  helpe  I  praie  thee  in 
lawfull  maner  to  hang  vp  such  as  take  Centum  pro  cento,1  for  they  are 
no  better  worthie,  as  I  doo  iudge  in  conscience.  Forget  not  also  such 
landlords  as  vse  to  value  their  leases  at  a  secret  estimation  giuen  of 
the  wealth  and  credit  of  the  taker,  whereby  they  seeme  (as  it  were) 
to  eat  them  vp  and  deale  with  bondmen,  so  that  if  the  leassee  be 
thought  to  be  worth  an  hundred  pounds,  he  shall  paie  no  lesse  for  his 
new  terme,  or  else  another  to  enter  with  hard  and  doubtfull  couenants. 
I  am  sorie  to  report  it,  much  more  greeued  to  vnderstand  of  the 
practise ;  but  most  sorowfull  of  all  to  vnderstand  that  men  of  great 
port  and  countenance  are  so  farre  from  suffering  their  farmers  to  haue 
anie  gaine  at  all,  that  they  themselues  become  grasiers,  butchers, 
tanners,  sheepmasters,  woodmen,  and  denique  quid  non,  thereby  to 
inrich  themselues,  and  bring  all  the  wealth  of  the  countrie  into  their 
owne  hands,  leauing  the  communaltie  weake,  or  as  an  idoll  with 
broken  or  feeble  armes,  which  may  in  a  time  of  peace  haue  a  plau 
sible  shew,  but  when  necessitie  shall  inforce,  haue  an  heauie  and 
bitter  aecpLele.—HoUnshed,  vol.  i.  p.  188-189,  ed.  1586. 

The  date  of  the  poem  I  cannot  pretend  to  fix.     "  The  new 
found  land  "  of  1.  91- 

1   "  By  the  yeare  "  is  the  sidenote. 


CONSCIENCE.  183 

We  banisht  thee  the  country  beyond  the  salt  sea, 
&  sett  thee  on  shore  in  the  new-found  land — 

cannot  refer,  I  think,  to  the  re-discovery  of  Newfoundland  by 
John  Cabot,  then  in  the  service  of  England,  on  the  24th  of 
June,  1497  (Penny  CycL).  The  date  must  be  later  than  that. 

The  first  three  stanzas  of  the  poem,  which  should  contain 
twenty-one  lines,  in  the  Manuscript  (which  is  written  without 
divisions)  contain  only  eighteen  lines.  Mr.  Skeat  has  sent  me 
two  arrangements  of  them,  of  which  the  following  seems  the 
right  one : 

As  I  walked  of  late  by  one  wood  side, 

to  god  for  to  meditate  was  my  entent, 
where  vnder  a  hawthorne  I  suddenly  espyed 

a  silly  poore  creature  ragged  &  rent, 

with  bloody  teares  his  face  was  besprent, 
his  fleshe  &  his  color  consumed  away, 
&  his  garments  they  were  all  mire,  mucke,  &  clay ; 

wz'th  turning  &  winding  his  bodye  was  toste, 


"  good  lord  !  of  my  liffe  depriue  me,  I  pray, 

for  I,  silly  wretch,  am  ashamed  of  my  name  ; 

&  I  cursse  my  godfathers  that  gaue  me  the  same." 

this  made  me  muse  &  much  desire 

to  know  what  kind  of  man  hee  shold  bee  ; 

I  stept  to  him  straight,  and  did  him  require 
his  name  &  his  seeretts  to  shew  vnto  me. 
his  head  he  cast  vp,  &  wooful  was  hee, 

"my  name,"  q?<oth  hee,  "  is  the  causer  of  my  care, 

&  makes  me  scornd,  &  left  here  soe  bare." — F. 


As  :  I  walked  of  late  by  one1  wood  side,  AS  I  walked 

2  to  god  for  to  meditate  was  my  entent,  Sedttate, 

where  vnder  a  hawthorne  I  suddenly  espyed  :  spied 
4         a  silly  poore  creature  ragged  &  rent ;  . 


i  an. — p.  *  perhaps  On  God. — P. 


184 


CONSCIENCE. 


ragged 
creature 


mired  all 

over. 

He  wished 

himself  dead, 


his  name 
caused  his 
trouble. 


I  asked  him 
to  tell  it  me. 


12 


with  bloody  teares  his  face  was  besprent, 
his  fleshe  &  his  color  consumed  away ; 

1  with  turning  &  winding  his  bodye  was  toste, 
&  his  garments  they  were  all  mire,  mucke,  &  clay. 
"  good  lord  !  of  my  liffe  depriue  me,  I  pray, 

for  I,  silly  wretch,  am  ashamed  of  my  name  ! 
2  my  name,  "  quoth  hee,  "  is  the  causer  of  my  care, 

&  I  cursse  my  godfathers  that  gaue  me  the  same  !  " 


this  made  me  muse,  &  much  desire 

to  know  what  kind  of  man  hee  shold  bee  ;  3 

I  stept  to  him  straight,  &  did  him  require 
16         his  name  &  his  secretts  to  shew  vnto  me.      [page  244] 
his  head  he  cast  vp,  &  wooful  was  hee,4 

["  My  name,"  quoth  hee,  is  the  causer  of  my  care,] 

&  makes  me  scornd,  &  left  5  here  soe  bare." 


He  said  his 


then  straight-  way  he  turnd  him  &  prayd  him6  sit 

dow[ne] 
20     "  &  I  will,"  saithe  he,  "  declare  my  whole  greefe. 

m7  name  is  called   Conscience  ;  "  wheratt  he   did 

fro[wne] 
he  pined  to  repeate  it,  &  grinded  his  teethe. 

7 

When  young  for  while  I  was  young  &  tender  of  yeeres, 

24     I  was  entertained  with  Km^s  8  &  with  Peeres, 


1  This  verse  is  redundant. — P. 

9  To  come  in  below. — P. 

8  Percy,  in  his  Reliques,  omits  three  of 
these  lines,  and  transfers  line  11  to 
line  1 8,  where  it  must  be,  at  least,  re 
peated,  without  notice  to  the  reader.  The 
bishop  warns  his  readers  in  his  second 
and  later  editions  that  some  corruptions 
in  the  old  copy  are  here  corrected,  but  not 
without  notice  to  the  reader,  where  it 
was  necessary,  by  inclosing  the  correc 
tions  between  inverted  '  commas.'  He 
must  have  therefore  thought  the  omission 


of  lines  9,  10,  and  12,  a  correction  not 
necessary  to  be  noticed. — F. 

4  The  verse 

["  my  name  "  qwoth  hee,  "  is  the  causer  of 

my  care,"] 
to  come  in  here. — P. 

5  The /is  like  an/  in  the  MS.— F. 

6  me.— P. 

7  Thoughe    now    silly    wretche,    I'm 

deny'd  all  relief, 
Yet  .  .  . — Reliques. 

8  kinges. — Bel. 


CONSCIENCE.  185 

"  there  was  none  in  all1  the  court  that  lined  in  such   he  was 

P  honoured 

fame  ; 

for  with  the  Kings  councell  he  sate  2  in  Commission  ; 
Dukes  Erles  &  Barrons  esteemed  of  my  name  ;  by  Dukes 

28         &  how  that  I  liued  there  needs  no  repetition  ; 

I  was  euer  holden  in  honest  condition  ; 

for  howsoeuer  the  lawes  went  in.  Westminster  hall,  and  in  Law 

when  sentence  was  giuen,  for  me  the  wold3  call. 


32     "  noe  Incombes  4  at  all  the  landlord  wold  take, 

Landlords 

but  one  pore  peny,  that  was  their  fine,  obeyed  him ; 

&  that  they  acknowledged  to  be  for  my  sake ; 

the  poore  wold  doe  nothing  without  councell  mine  ;   the  poor> 
36          I  ruld  the  world  w/th  the  rigvht  line  : 

the  world, 

for  nothing  that  was  5  passed  betweene  foe  &  freind, 
but  Conscience  was  called  to  bee  at  an  6  end. 


noe  Merchandize  nor  bargaines  the  Merchants  wold  and 

merchants. 

maLke], 

40         but  I  was  called  a  wittenesse  therto  ;  NO  usury 

no  vse  7  for  noe  mony,  nor  forfett  wold  take,  tised. 

but  I  wold  controwle  them  if  that  they  did  soe  ; 
that  makes  me  Hue  now  in  great  woe, 

44     for  then  came  in  pride,  Sathans  disciple,  «•  Then  came 

that  now  is  8  entertaind  with  9  all  kind  of  people  ; 

he  brought  with  him  3,  whose  names  they  be  these,10     covetous- 

that  is  couetousnes,  Lecherye,  vsury,  ]  1  beside  ;  Lechery,  and 

48     they   neuer   preuailed   till   they   had12   wrought   my 


,  ,,  ,,  threw  me. 

downe-fall. 


all  omitted. — Ed.  8  is  now.— Eel.                 9  of.— P. 

I  sate. — P.  I0  thus  they  call.— Eel. 

they  wold. — P.  "  '  &  pride '  was  added  here  in  the  MS., 

Incomes. — P.  then  struck  out  with  a  heavy  ink  stroke, 

(that  was)  seem  redundant. — P.  the  acid  of  which  has  eaten  the  paper 

the.— P.  away. — F. 

interest.— F.  l2  had  omitted. — Eel. 


186 


CONSCIENCE. 


I  tried 


soe   pride   was    entertained,   but   Conscience    was 

deride.1 

yet  st[i]ll 2  abroad  liaue  3  I  tryed 
to  haue  had  entertainment  w?'th  some  one  or  other, 
52     but  I  am  reiected  &  scorned  of  my  brother. 


then  tho 
Court ; 


but  was  told 
to  pack  off  to 
St.  Bartholo- 


"  then  went  I  to  the  4  court,  the  gallants  to  winn, 
but  the  porter  kept  me  out  of  the  gates. 

to  Bartlwew  5  spittle,  to  pray  for  my  sinnes,6 

they  bad7  me  goe  packe  me ;  it  was  fitt  for  my  state  ; 
"goe,  goe,  threed-bare  conscience,  &  seeke  thee  a 
mate !  " 

good  LorcZ  !  long  preserue  my  K«?#,  Pirince,  &  Queene, 

with  whom  euer  more  I  haue  esteemed 8  beene  ! 


Next  I  tried 
London, 
but  they 


sent  me  off 
too. 


60     "  then  went  I  to  london,  where  once  I  did  wonne,9 

but  they  bade  away  with  me  when  the  knew  my 

name ; 
"  for  he  will  vndoe  vs  to  bye  &  to  sell," 

they  bade  me  goe  packe  me,  &  hye  me  for  shame, 
64         they  lought  at  my  raggs,  &  there  had  good  game  ; 
"  this  is  old  threed-bare  Conscience  that  dwelt  with 

St.  Peete[r]  ; 
but  they  wold  not  admitt  me  to  be  a  chimney  sweeper. 


I  spent  my 
last  penny 
in  an  awl  and 
patches  to 
cobble  shoes, 


"  not  one  wold  receiue  me,  the  ~Lord  god  doth  know. 
68         I,  hauing  but  one  poore  pennye  in  my  pursse, 
of  an  aule 10  &  some  patches  I  did  it  bestow  ; 

I  thought  better  to 1 1  cobble  shooes  then  to  doe  worsse. 


perhaps  decried. — P. 

now  ever  since. — 7iW. 

Only  half  the  u  in  the  MS.— F. 

the  omitted.— /«W. 

Bartlemew. — Rcl. 

Sin.— P. 


s  esteemed  I've. — P.     I  ever  esteemed 
have.— Rel. 

'  perhaps   dwell,    (idem) — P.     dwell. 
Rel, 
10  On  an  awl.— P. 


me  omitted  in  1*  ed?,  restored  in          "  For  I  thought  better. — Ed. 


CONSCIENCE.  187 

straight  then  all  they  '  Coblers  they  began  to  cursse,    i.ut  tii« 
72     &   by  statute  //<e  wold  prouo  rue2  I  was  a  rouge  &   whiptmeout 

,  of  thu  town. 

forlor[ne,J 

&  they  whipt3  me  out  of  towno  to  see4  where  I  was 
borne. 


"  then  did  I  remember  &  call  to  my  minde 

they  court  ft  of  conscience  where  once;  I  did  sit,  I  tri«i  tho 

Court  of 

76     not  doubting  but  there  some  favor  I  ahold  find,  Commence, 

for6  my  name  &  the  place  agreed  soe  (itt. 
but  therof  my  7  purpose  I  faylcd  a  wliitt, 

for  the  8  iudge  did  vsc  my  name  in  eiu</yc  condie/on  y  i.ntuiorctho 

80     for  Lawyers    w/'th   their    qu[i]lletts  1()    wold  get    a"  wti<-<-<iicd  mo 
dismission. 


"  then  Westminster  hall  was  noo  place  for-  me  ;  Then  T  wr-nt 

good  god  !  12  how  the  Lawyers  began  to  assernblee  ;  *tx-r  HUH, 

&  fearfull  tliey  were  lest  there  I  shold  be  !  iuwy(!rH 
84         the  silly  poore  clarkes  began  to  tremblee  ;  l:< 

I  showed  them  my  cause,  &  did  not  dissemble. 

soe  then  they  gaue  me  some  moriy  my  charges  to  beare,  Rav(.  ,I10 

but  they 14  swore  me  on  a  booke  Imust  neu«rcome  there,  btitmade  m(5 

Hweiir  to  go. 

88     "then15  the  Merchants  said,   '  counterfeite,  get   thee   Timmnr- 

chantH  too 
away,  rejected  rne, 

dost  thou  remember  how  wee  thee  found  ?  1G 
we  banisht  thee  the  country  beyond  the  salt  sea, 
&  sett  thee  on  shore  in  the  new-found  land,17 


the.— P.  I0  The  Lawyers— quillotH.—  P. 

(I  was)  delend.—P.  "  my.— ltd. 

And  whipp.— Rel.  I2  lord.— ltd. 

seeke.— ltd.  "  twmble.— lid. 

The  court. — P.  M  they  omitted.— lid. 

8ith.— lid.  '•  Next.— lid. 
there  of  my. — P.    sure  of  my. — Rel.         Ia  fond. — Jfel. 

usd.—Hcl.  "  lond.— P.     land.— Rel. 
For  tho' — cofijission. — P. 


188 


CONSCIENCE. 


92        &  there  thow  &  wee  most  freindly  shook  hands  ; 
&  we  were  verry  2  glad  when  thou  did  refuse  vs, 
for  when  we  wold  reape  proffitt  heere  3  thou  wold  4 
accuse  vs.' 


so  I  had  to 
go  to  Gentle- 
men'shouses, 
and  tell  them 
I  had  made 
their  fore 
fathers  grant 
just  leases. 


They  cursed 
me. 


"  then  had  I  noe  way  but  for  to  goe  an  5 
96        to  gentlemens  houses  of  an  ancyent  name, 

declaring  my  greeffes ;  &  there  I  made  moane,  [page  245] 
&  6  how  there  7  forfathers  had  held  me  in  fame, 
&  in  letting  of  their  ffarmes  I  alwayes  vsed  the  same.8 
100    the  sayd,  "  fye  vpon  thee  !  we  may  thee  cursse  ! 
they  haue  leases9  continue,  &  we  fare  the  worsse." 


At  last  I  was 
driven  to 
husband 
men; 
but  land 
lords  had  left 
them  no 
thing  to  give 
away ; 


so  I  am  in 
this  wood, 
and  eat  hips 
and  haws, 


but  am 
comforted 
by  Mercy, 
Pity,  and 
Almsdeeds." 


104 


&  then  I  was  forced  a  begging  to  goe 
to  husbandsinens  houses  ;  who  greeved  right  sore, 
who  sware  that  their  Landlords  had  plaged  them  so 


sore 


that  they  were  not  able  to  keepe  open  doore, 
nor  nothing  the  n  had  left  to  giue  to  the  pore, 
therfore  to  this  wood  I  doe  repayre 
108    with  hepps  &  hawes  ;  that  is  my  best  fare. 

"  &  yet  within  this  same  desert  some  comfort  I  haue 

of  Mercy,  of  pittye,  &  of  almes-deeds, 
who  haue  vowed  to  company  me  to  my  12  graue. 
112        wee  are  ill  Jjj,  put  to  silence,  &  liue  vpon  weeds ; 14 

our  banishment  is  their  vtter  decay, 

the  which  the  rich  glutton  will  answer  one  day." 


1  bond.— P. 

2  right. — Eel. 

3  proffitt  heere  omitted. — Eel. 

4  woldst. — Eel. 

•  OK.— Eel. 

6  Telling.— Bel. 

*  their.— P. 

8  And   at    letting    their  farmes    how 
always  I  came. — Eel. 


9  their  leases,  i.  e.  the  indulgent  Leases 
let  by  our  forefathers. — Pt 

10  soe.—Eel. 

11  (the)  redundawt. — P. 

12  ny  in  the  MS.  —  F. 

13  all.— Eel. 

14  and  hence  such  cold  housekeeping 
proceeds. — Eel. 


CONSCIENCE.  189 

'  why  then,"  I  said  to  him,  "  methinkes  it  were  best      "GO  to  the 
116        to  goe  to  the  Clergee  ;  for  dealye  l  the  preach  i.er§ 

eche  man  to  loue  you  aboue  all  the  rest ; 

of  mercy  &  of  Pittie  &  of  almes  they  doe2  teach." 

"0,"  said  he,  "no  matter  of  a  pin  what  they  doe  ifdbeno 

•i  good ;  their 

preach,  wives  and 

120    for  their  wiues  &  their  children  soe  hangs  them  vpon,    their  giving. 
that  whosoener  giues   almes  deeds  3  they  will 4  giue 
none." 


then  Laid  he  him  downe,  &  turned  him  away, 

prayd  5  me  to  goe  &  leaue  him  to  rest, 
124    I  told  him  I  might  happen  to6  see  the  day 

to  haue  7  him  &  his  fellowes  to  Hue  w/th  the  best ;      Banish 
8  "first,"  said  hee,   "  you  must  banish  pride,  &   then   England1 

„  „       .        ,  will  be  blest. 

all  England  were  blest,J 

& '  °  then  those  wold  loue  vs  thatnow  sells 1 1  their  lands, !  2 
128    &  then  good  houses  eue/ye  where  wold  be  kept13  out  of 
hand." 

ff 111S. 


1  daily. — P.  8  This  line  written  as  two  in  the  MS. 

2  doe  omitted.— Bel.  —  F. 

3  deeds  omitted. — Bel.  9  First  said  he,  banish  Pryde :  Then 

4  It  ought  in  justice  and  Truth  to  be  all  England  were  blest. — P.   These  make 
CAN." — P.  two  lines  in  the  MS. — F. 

5  And  prayd.— Bel.  10  For.— Bel. 

6  haplie  might  yet,—  Bel.  n  sell.— Bel. 

7  For. -Bel.  Ia  land.— P. 

13  house-keeping  wold  revive. — Bel. 


190 


Durham 

SAYS  Shakespeare's  Henry  V. : 

You  shall  read,  that  my  grandfather 
Never  went  with  his  forces  into  France, 
But  that  the  Scot  on  his  unfurnisht  kingdom 
Came  pouring,  like  a  tide  into  a  breach, 
With  ample  and  brim-fullness  of  his  force ; 
Galling  the  gleaned  land  with  hot  assays  ; 
Girdling,  with  grievous  siege,  castles  and  towns, 
That  England  being  empty  of  defence 
Hath  shook  and  trembled  at  th'  ill  neighbourhood. 

Perhaps  the  best  account  of  the  expedition  celebrated  in  the 
following  ballad  is  given  by  Fordun.  "  The  local  accuracy," 
observes  Surtees,  "  with  which  Fordun  describes  the  advance  of 
the  English  army  from  Auckland,  ....  infers  that  his  account 
must  have  been  received  from  eye-witnesses."  Other  accounts 
are  furnished  by  Knighton,  Walsingham,  Froissart.  Harl  MS. 
No.  4843  contains  an  ancient  monkish  poem  on  it. 

The  confidence  of  the  Scotch  King  is  amusingly  represented 
in  the  First  Part  of  the  ballad. 

Oddly  enough,  nothing  is  said  of  the  Queen,  who,  though 
probably  Froissart  exaggerates  the  part  she  played,  yet  was 
certainly  not  remote  from  the  scene  of  the  conflict.  One  would 
have  expected  her  presence  to  have  been  made  much  of  by  the 
ballad-writer. 

John  Copeland,  who  captured  the  King,  was  a  Northumbrian 
esquire.  He  was  afterwards  Grove rnor  of  Berwick  and  Sheriff  of 
Northumberland. 


1  Fought  Octf  17,  1346,  at  St.  Nevil's  inrode  (sic]  into  England  by  the  Scotts, 

Cross,  near  Durham.  "  An  excellent"  &  the  taking  of  their  King,  while 

[half  scratched  out]. —  P.  Edward  3?  was  in  France. — P. 

Old    Ballad.      The    Subject    is    the 


DURHAM    FEILDE. 


191 


LORDINGES,  listen,  &  hold  yo[u]  l  still ; 

hearken  to  me  a  litle  ; 
I  shall  you  tell  of  the  fairest  battell 
4         that  ener  in  England  beffell. 


Listen, 


and  I'll  tell 
you  of  a  fair 
battle. 


for  as  it  befell  in  Edward  the  3d;  dayes,2 

in  England,  where  he  ware  the  crowne, 
then  all  the  cheefe  chiualry  of  England 
8         they  busked  3  &  made  them  bowne  4  ; 


When  Ed 
ward  III. 

was  king, 

all  his 

knights 


they  chosen  all  the  best  archers 

that  in  England  might  be  found, 
and  all  was  to  fight  with  the  }Ling  of  ffrance 
12         within  a  litle  stounde.5 


and  archers 


went  to  fight 
the  French. 


and  when  our  ~K.ing  was  oner  the  water, 

and  on  the  salt  sea  gone, 
then  tydings  into  Scotland  came 
16         that  all  England  was  gone  ; 


Then  the 
Scotch  hear 


bowes  and  arrowes  they  were  all  forth, 

at  home  was  not  left  a  man  G 
but  shepards  and  Millers  both, 
20         &  preists  w^th  shauen  crownes. 


that  no  men 
are  left  in 
England 

but  millers 
and  priests. 


then  the  King  of  Scotts  in  a  study  stood, 

as  he  was  a  man  of  great  might ; 
he    sware    'he  wold    hold   his 

London 
24         if  he  cold  ryde  there  right.' 


The  Scotch 
king 


Parlamew^   in   leeue 7  swears  he'll 

ride  to 
London. 


1  ?  MS.  ;  it  may  be  yo.-— F. 

2  when  Edward  the  3<?  — P. 

8  See  P.  397,  st.  46.  (of  MS.)— P. 
*  bowne,  paratus,  L. — P. 
5  Stound,   signum,   momentum,    spa- 
tium,  bora,  tempus.     Lye. — P. 


6  mon.— P.     See  vol.  i.  p.  217,  1.  109. 
— F. 

7  Leeve,   perhaps   the   same   as  leef, 
lief,  leif,  dear,  beloved— A.-S.  leofa,  belg. 
lief.     Teut.  lieb,  charus,  amicus,  gratus. 
Gloss?  to  GawV  Douglas. — P. 


192 


DURHAM    FEILDE. 


A  squire  then  bespake  a  Squier  of  Scottland  borne, 

&  sayd,  "  my  leege,  apace, 

tells  Mm  he'll  before  you  come  to  leeue  London 

resolve,  28         full  sore  youle  rue  that  race  ! 

"  ther  beene  bold  yeomen  in  merry  England, 

husbandmen  stifle  &  strong ; 
sharpes  swords  they  done  weare, 
32         bearen  bowes  &  arrowes  longe." 


the  ~K.ing  was  angrye  at  that  word, 

a  long  sword  out  hee  drew, 
and  there  befor  his  royall  companye 
36         his  owne  squier  hee  slew. 

hard  hansell  had  the  Scottes  that  day 

that  wrought  them  woe  enoughe, 
for  then  durst  not  a  Scott  speake  a  word 
40         ffor  hanging  att  a  boughe, 

"  the  Earle  of  Anguish,1  where  art  thou  ? 

in  my  coate  armor  2  thou  shalt  bee, 
and  thou  shalt  lead  the  forward  3 
44          thorrow  the  English  countrye. 


"take  thy4  yorke,"  then  sayd  the  Kmgr, 

"  in  stead  wheras  it  doth  stand  ; 
and  promises  He  make  thy  eldest  sonne  after  thee 

him  North-  * 

umberiand.     48         heyre  of  all  Northumberland. 


for  which 
the  King 


kills  him, 


so  no  one  else 
dares  say  a 
word. 


James  tells 
the  Earl  of 
Angus  to 
lead  the  van, 


[page  246] 


To  the  Earl 
of  Buchan  he 
promises 

Derbyshire ; 


"  the  Earle  5  of  Yaughan,6  where  be  yee  ? 

in  my  coate  armor  thou  shalt  bee  ; 
the  high  Peak  &  darbyshire 
52         I  giue  it  thee  to  thy  fee." 


1  Earl  of  Angus.— P. 

2  Cote-Armour.      A  name  applied  to 
the     tabard    by    Chaucer    and    others. 
Fairholt.— F. 

3  vaward. — P.     There  is  a  tag  to  the 


d  in  the  MS.— F. 

4  thee,  i.  e.  to  thee. — P. 

5  The  I  is  made  over  an  e. — F. 

6  It  sJumld  be  Baughan,  i.  e.  Buchan. 
—P. 


DUltHAM    FE1LDE. 

then  came  in  famous  Douglas, 

sales,  "  what  shall  my  meede  bee  ? 
&  He  lead  the  vawward,1  Lord, 
56         thorow  the  English  countrye." 

"  take  thee  Worster,"  sayd  the  King, 

"  Tuxburye,2  Killing  worth,  Burton  vpon  trent ; 
doe  thou  not  say  another  day 
60         but  I  haue  giuen  thee  lands  and  rent. 

"  Sir  Richard  of  Edenborrow,  where  are  yee  ? 

a  wise  man  in  this  warr  ! 
He  giue  thee  Bristow  &  the  shire 
64         the  time  that  wee  come  there. 


193 

to  Douglas, 


Worcester  ; 


to  Sir 
Richard  of 
Edinburgh, 

Bristol  and 
its  shire ; 


"  my  "Lord  Nevill,  where  beene  yee  ? 

you  must  in  this  warres  bee  ! 
He  giue  thee  Shrewsburye,"  saies  the  K-w^r, 
68         "  and  Couentrye  faire  &  free. 

"  my  Ijord  of  Hambleton,  where  art  thou  ? 

thou  art  of  my  kin  full  nye  ; 
He  giue  thee  lincolne  &  Lincolneshire, 
72         &  thats  enouge  for  thee." 

by  then  came  in  William  Douglas 

as  breeme  3  as  any  bore  ; 
he  kneeled  him  downe  vpon  his  knees, 
76          in  his  hart  he  sighed  sore, 

saies,  "  I  haue  serued  you,  my  louelye  leege, 

this  30  winters  and  4, 

&  in  the  Marches  4  betweene  England  &  Scottland 
80         I  haue  beene  wounded  &  beaten  sore  ; 


to  Lord 

Nevill, 


Shrewsbury 
and  Coven 
try; 


to  Lord 
Hambleton, 


Lincoln 
shire. 


William 
Douglas 


reminds  tho 
King  of  his 
long  services, 


1  i.  e.  the  Van,  the  Vanguard.  Fr.  avant- 
guarde.  L. — P. 

2  qu.  MS.— F. 

3  breme,   ferox,   atrox,   cruel,    sharp,       Jun. — P. 
severe.     Lye. — P, 

VOL.  II. 


4  Marches,  confinia,  limites,  alicujus 
territorii :  refer  ad  Mark  Scotis. 
March,  a  landmark,  &c.  Vid.  Lye,  ad 


194 


DURHAM    FEILDE. 


and  asks 
what  his  re 
ward  is  to  be. 


84 


"  for  all  the  good  service  thai  I  hane  done, 

what  shall  my  meed  bee  ? 
&  I  will  lead  the  vanward 

thorrow  the  English  countrye." 


"  Whatever 

you  ask," 

answers 

James. 

"  Then  I  ask 

for  London." 


88 


"  aske  on,  douglas,"  said  the  King, 

"  &  granted  it  shall  bee." 

"  why  then,  I  aske  litle  London,"  saies  WilKo-m 
Douglas, 

"  gotten  giff  that  it  bee." 


James 
refuses  that, 


the  K.mg  was  wrath,  and  rose  away, 


saies,     nay, 


that  cannot  bee  ! 


for  that  I  will  keepe  for  my  cheefe  chamber, 
gotten  if  it  bee  ; 


but  gives 
Donglas  N. 
Wales  and 
Cheshire, 


"  but  take  thee  North  wales  &  weschaster, 

the  cuntrye  all  round  about, 
&  rewarded  thou  shalt  bee, 
96        of  that  take  thou  noe  doubt." 


makes  100 
new  knights 


and  gives 
them  the 
English 
towns. 


They  make 
ready  for 
battle, 


100 


5  score  knights  he  made  on  a  day, 
&  dubbd  them  with  his  hands  ; 

rewarded  them  right  worthilye 

w^th  the  townes  in  merry  England. 


&  when  the  fresh  knights  they  were  made, 

to  battell  the  buske  them  bowne  ; 1 
lames  Douglas  went  before, 
104        &  he  thought  to  haue  wonnen  him  shoone. 


but  the 
English 
Commons 
meet  them, 
and  let  none 


but  the  were  mett  in  a  morning  of  May 

with,  the  comminaltye  of  litle  England  ; 
but  there  scaped  neuer  a  man  away 
108        through  the  might  of  christes  hand, 


See  Page  397,  st.  46  [of  MS.].— P. 


DURHAM    FEILDE. 


195 


112 


but  all  onely  lames  Douglas  ; 

in  Durham  in  the  ffeild 
an  arrow  stroke  him  in  the  thye. 

fast  flinge[s  he]  towards  the  ~K.ing. 


the  King  looked  toward  litle  Durham, 

saies,  "  all  things  is  not  well ! 
for  lames  Dowglas  beares  an  arrow  in  his  thye, 
116        the  head  of  it  is  of  steele. 


except 
Douglas, 


who  is 
wounded 
and  flees  to 
the  King. 


"how  now  lames  ?  "  then  said  the  King, 

"  how  now,  how  may  this  bee  ? 
&  where  beene  all  thy  merrymen 
120        That  thou  tooke  hence  with  thee  ?  " 


James  asks 
where  his 
men  are. 


[page  247] 


"  but  cease,  my  Km^r,"  saies  lames  l  Douglas, 

"  aliue  is  not  left  a  man  !  " 
"  now  by  my  faith,"  saies  the  King  of  scottes, 
124        "  thai  gate  2  was  euill  gone  ; 


All  dead. 
James  vows 


"  but  He  reuenge  thy  quarrell  well, 

&  of  that  thou  may  be  faine  ; 
for  one  Scott  will  beate  5  Englishmen 
128        if  the  meeten  them  on  the  plaine." 


revenge ; 


one  Scot  is  a 
match  for 
five  English. 


"  now  hold  jour  tounge,"  saies  lames  Douglas, 

"  for  in  faith  thai  is  not  soe  ; 
for  one  English  man  is  worth  5  Scotts 
132        when  they  meeten  together  thoe  ; 

"  for  they  are  as  Egar  men  to  fight 

as  a  faulcon  vpon  a  pray. 

alas  !  if  euer  the  winne  the  vanward,  , 

136        there  scapes  noe  man  away." 


"  No,"  says 
Douglas, 


"  one  Eng 
lishman  is 
worth  five 
Scots ; 


they  let  no 
one  escape 
alive." 


1  lanes  in  the  MS.— F. 

2  gate,  via  a  way  :  march  or  walk.  Lye. — P. 

o  2 


196 


DURHAM    FEILDE. 


"  0  peace  thy  talking,"  said  the 

"  they  bee  but  English  knaues, 
but  shepards  &  Millers  both, 
140        &  [mass]  preists  w^'th  their  staues." 

the  JLing  sent  forth  one  of  his  heralds  of  armes 

to  vew  the  Englishmen. 
that  he  has  "be  of  good  cheere,"  the  herald  said, 

ten  to  the  ,.  ,,  ,  ,, 

English  one,    144  tor  against  one  wee  bee  ten. 

"  who  leades  those  Ladds  ?  "  said  the  ~K.ing  of  Scottes, 
"thou  herald,  tell  thou  niee." 


A  herald 
reports  to 


whom  the 
Bishop  of 
Durham 
leads. 


the  herald  said,  "  the  Bishopp  of  Durham 
148        is  captaine  of  thai  companye  ; 

for  the  Bishopp  hath  spred  the  lyings  banner 

&  to  battell  he  buskes  him  bowne," 
"  I  sweare  by  St.  Andrewes  bones,"  saies  the  K.ing, 
152        "He  rapp  thai  preist  on  the  crowne  !  " 


[Part  II.] 


James  sees 


Lord  Percy 
in  the  field. 


There,  too, 
are  Lords 
York,  Car 
lisle, 

and  two  Fitz- 
williams. 


K.ing  looked  towards  litle  Durham, 
&  thai  hee  well  beheld, 
thai  the  Earle  Percy  was  well  armed, 
156  with  his  battell  axe  entred  the  feild. 

2^  part- , 

the  "King  looket  againe  towards  litle  Durham, 

4  ancyents  there  see  hee ; 
there  were  to  standards,  6  in  a  valley, 
160  he  cold  not  see  them  with  his  eye. 

My  Lord  of  yorke  was  one  of  them, 
my  lord  of  Carlile  was  the  other  ; 
&  my  Lord  ffluwilliams, 
164        the  one  came  with  the  other. 


DURHAM    FEILDE. 


the  Bishopp  of  Durham  commanded  his  men, 

&  shortlye  he  them  bade, 

'  that  neuer  a  man  shold  goe  to  the  feild  to  fight 
168        till  he  had  serued  his  god.' 


197 

The  Bishop 


orders  all  his 

men 

to  hear  mass. 


500  preists  said  masse  thai  day 

in  durham  in  the  feild  ; 
&  afterwards,  as  I  hard  say, 
172        they  bare  both  speare  &  sheeld. 


f>00  priests 
say  it, 


and  then 
tuke  arms, 


the  Bishopp  of  Durham  l  orders  himselfe  to  fight 

with  his  battell  axe  in  his  hand  ; 
he  said,  "  this  day  now  I  will  fight 
176        as  long  as  I  can  stand !  " 


as  does  the 
Bishop. 


"  &  soe  will  I,"  sayd  my  Lore?  of  Carlile, 

"  in  this  faire  morning  gay  ;  " 
"  &  soe  will  I,"  said  my  Ltonl  ffluwilliams, 
180        "  for  Mary,  that  myld  may." 


Carlisle 


and  the 
Fitzwilliams 
swear  to 
fight. 


our  English  archers  bent  their  bowes 

shortlye  and  anon, 
they  shott  ouer  the  Scottish  Oast 
184        &  scantlye2  toucht  a  man. 


Our  archers 
first 


shoot  too 
hteh. 


"  hold  downe  yowr  hands,  '  '  sayd  the  Bishopp  of  Durham, 

my  archers  good  &  true. 
the  2<?  shoote  that  the  shott, 
188        full  sore  the  Scottes  itt  rue. 


The  Bishop 
orders  them 
to  shoot  low. 


the  Bishopp  of  Durham  spoke  on  hye 

that  both  partyes  might  heare, 
"be  of  good  cheere,  my  merrymen  all, 
192        the  Scotts  flyen,  &  changen  there  cheere  !  " 


Durban  in  MS. — F. 


2  scantly,  scarcely. — P. 


198 


DURHAM    FEILDE. 


who  fall  in 
heaps. 


196 


but  as  the  saidden,  soe  the  didden, 

they  fell  on  heapes  hye  ; 
our  Englishmen  laid  on  w*th  their  bowes 

as  fast  as  they  might  dree. 


King  James 


is  shot 
through  the 


200 


1  The  King  of  Scotts  in  a  studye  stood 

amongst  his  companye, 
an  arrow  stoke  him  thorrow  the  nose 

&  thorrow  his  armorye. 


[page  248] 


gets  off  his 
horse. 


the  King  went  to  a  marsh  side 

&  light  beside  his  steede, 
he  leaned  him  downe  on  his  sword  hilts 
204        to  let  his  nose  bleede. 


and  is  sum 
moned  to 
yield  by  an 
English 
yeoman, 
Copland. 


James 
refuses, 


there  followed  him  a  yeaman  of  merry  England, 

his  name  was  lohn  of  Coplande  : 
"  yeeld  thee  Traytor  !  "  saies  Coplande  then, 
208        "  thy  liffe  lyes  in  my  hand." 

"  how  shold  I  yeeld  me  ?  "  sayes  the  King, 

"  &  thou  art  noe  gentleman." 
unoe,  by  my  troth,"  sayes  Copland  there, 
212        "I  am  but  a  poore  yeaman  ; 


"  what  art  thou  better  then  I,  Sir  'King  ? 

tell  me  if  that  thou  can  ! 
what  art  thou  better  then  I,  S^r  'King, 
216        now  we  be  but  man  to  man  ?  " 


and  strikes 
at  Copland, 


who  floors 
him. 


the  King  smote  angerly  at  Copland  then, 

angerly  in  that  stonde  2  ; 
&  then  Copland  was  a  bold  yeaman, 
220       &  bore  the  King  to  the  ground. 


1  Here  a  short  leaf  is  inserted  in  the 
MS.  in  a  more  modern  hand,  Percy's  late 
upright  hand,  differing  from  the  early 


small  one  of  most  of  his  notes.  —  F. 
2  stound.  —  ?  Percy. 


DUKHAM    FEILDE. 


199 


he  sett  the  King  upon  a  Palfrey, 

himselfe  upon  a  steede, 
he  tooke  him  by  the  bridle  rayne, 
224        towards  London  he  can  him  Lead. 


puts  him  on 
a  palfrey, 


and  takes 
him  to 
London, 


where  King 
Edward  is. 


Edward  asks 
James  how 
ho  likes  his 
millers  and 
priests. 
"  They're 
the  hardest 
fighters  I 
ever  met." 


&  when  to  London  that  he  came, 

the  King  from  ffrance  was  new  come  home, 
&  there  unto  the  King  of  Scottes 
228        he  sayd  these  words  anon, 

"  how  like  you  my  shepards  &  my  millers, 

my  priests  wztli  shaven  crownes  ?  " 
"by  my  fayth,  they  are  the  sorest  fighting  men 
232        that  ever  I  mett  on  the  ground  ; 

"  there  was  never  a  yeaman  in  merry  England 

but  he  was  worth  a  Scottish  knight !" 
"I,  by  my  troth,"  said  King  Edward,  &  laughe, 
236        "  for  you  fought  all  against  the  right." 

but  now  the  Prince  of  merry  England 

worthilye  under  his  Sheelde 
hath  taken  the  King  of  ffrance 
240        at  Poytiers  in  the  ffeelde. 

the  Prince  did  present  his  father  with  that  food,1 

the  louely  King  off  ffrance, 
&  fforward  of  his  lourney  he  is  gone  : 
244        god  send  us  all  good  chance  ! 


"  you  are  welcome,  brothers  !  "  sayd  the  King  of  Scotts,   and  both  he 

J  J  '    and  the 

to  the  King  of  ffrance,  Scotch  King 

"  for  I  am  come  hither  to  soone  ; 
Christ  leeve  that  I  had  taken  my  way 
248        unto  the  court  of  Roome  !  ' 


The  King  of 
France  is 
also  taken 
at  Poietiers 


by  the  Black 
Prince, 


feod  or  feodary.— P.      Person  :  see  note  2,  p.  456,  vol.  i. — F. 


200 


DURHAM    FEILDE. 


wish  they 
had  kept  out 
of  England. 


Durham 
Field, 


Cressy,  and 
Poictiers, 
all  won  in  a 
month! 

Then  was 

wealth 

and  mirth  in 

England, 


and  the  King    260 
loved  the 
yeomanry ! 


"  &  soe  wold  I,"  said  the  King  of  ffrance, 

"when  I  came  over  the  streame, 
that  I  had  taken  my  lourney 
252        unto  Jerusalem. " 

Thus  ends  the  battell  of  ffaire  Durham 

in  one  morning  of  may, 

the  battell  of  Cressey,  &  the  battle  of  Potyers, 
256        All  within  one  monthes  day. 

then  was  welthe  &  welfare  in  mery  England, 

Solaces,  game,  &  glee, 
&  every  man  loved  other  well, 

&  the  King  loved  good  yeomanrye. 


[page  249] 


God  save 
him,  and  the 
yeomen  too  ! 


264 


but  God  that  made  the  grasse  to  growe, 

&  leaves  on  greenwoode  tree, 
now  save  &  keepe  our  noble  "King, 

&  maintaine  good  yeomanry  !  ffinis.1 


1  (Pencil  note  in  Percy's  late  hand.} 
"  This  &  2  following  Leaves  being  un 
fortunately  torn  out,  in  sending  the  sub 
sequent  piece  [King  Estmere]  to  the 
Press,  the  conclusion  of  the  preceding 
ballad  has  been  carefully  transcribed ; 
and  indeed  the  fragments  of  the  other 
Leaves  ought  to  have  been  so." 

The  loss  of  King  Estmere  is  much  to 
be  lamented.  It  was,  perhaps,  the  best 
ballad  in  the  Manuscript.  Percy  says 
in  the  2nd  edition  of  the  Reliques, 
p.  59,  that "  this  old  Eomantic  Legend .  . 
is  given  from  two  copies,  one  of  them  in 
the  Editor's  folio  MS." ;  but  we  have  not 
been  able  to  find  the  second  copy.  It  is 
not  in  the  other  small  MS.  in  the  posses 
sion  of  the  Bishop's  descendants  now. 
It  is  evident  at  a  glance  that  Percy  must 
have  touched  up  the  ballad  somewhat, 
as  in  line  4  he  has  y-were,  were,  for  a 
perfect  tense,  y  being  the  past  participle 
prefix ;  and  a  comparison  of  the  first 
three  editions  with  the  4th  shows  what 
liberties  he  took  with  the  (supposed) 
text  of  the  MS.  Some  of  these  will  be 
pointed  out  in  a  note  at  the  end  of  this 
volume.  The  thing  to  be  noticed  here  is 


that  Percy  must  have  deliberately  and 
unnecessarily  torn  three  leaves  out  of 
his  MS.  when  preparing  his  4th  edition 
for  the  Press,  and  after  he  had  learnt — to 
use  his  own  words — to  reverence  the  MS. 
These  leaves  were  in  the  MS.  till  that 
time,  as  he  says  in  his  note  on  "  Ver.  253. 
Some  liberties  have  been  taken  in  the 
following  stanzas ;  but  wherever  this 
edition  differs  from  the  preceding,  it 
hath  beeh  brought  nearer  to  the  folio 
MS."  As  the  differences  of  the  fourth 
from  the  other  editions,  after  v.  253, 
are  only  in  spelling  louJced,  '  looked,'  and 
wyfe,  '  wiffe/  we  must  take  the  latter 
part  of  Percy's  sentence  to  apply  to  the 
whole  ballad.  By  tearing  out  the  leaves 
he  has  prevented  us  from  knowing  the 
extent  of  his  large  changes,  and  has 
sacrificed  not  only  the  original  of  the 
whole  of  King  Estmere  but  also  the  first 
22  (or  more  or  less)  stanzas  of  Guy  and 
Pkillis,  of  which  his  version  is  printed 
in  the  ReUques  iii.  143,  4th  ed.,  and 
Child's  Ballads  i.  63-6.  I  calculate 
Percy's  additions  to  Estmere  and  the 
lost  part  of  Guy  at  40  lines.  — F. 


201 


[A  fragment.] 

[See  the  General  Introduction  to  all  the  Guy  Poems  in  Guy  $  Cokbrande  below. 
The  beginning  of  this  Poem  was  on  one  of  the  torn-out  leaves  of  the  MS.] 


In  winsor  fforrest  I  did  slay 

a  bore  of  passing  might  &  strenght,2 
whose  like  in  England  neuer  was 
4         for  hugnesse,  both  for  breadth  &  lenght ; 

some  of  his  bones  in  warwicke  yett 

w/thin  the  Castle  there  doth  3  Lye  ; 
one  of  his  sheeld  bones  to  this  day 
8         doth  hang  in  the  Citye  of  Couentrye. 

on  Dunsmore  heath  I  alsoe  slewe 
a  mightye  wyld  &  cruell  beast 
calld  the  Duncow  of  Dunsmore  heath, 
12         which  many  people  had  opprest; 

some  of  her  bones  in  warwicke  yett 
there  for  a  monument  doth 4  lye, 
which  vnto  euery  lookers  veue 
16         as  wonderous  strange  they  may  espye. 

another  dragon  in  this  Land 

in  fight  I  alsoe  did  destroye, 
who  did  bothe  men  &  beasts  opresse, 
p20         &  all  the  countrye  sore  anoye ; 

&  then  to  warwicke  came  againe 

like  Pilgrim  poore,  &  was  not  knowen  ; 
&  there  I  liued  a  Hermitts  liffe 
24         a  mile  &  more  out  of  the  towne  ; 


[page  254]     In  Windsor 
Forest  I 
slew  a  big 
boar, 


some  of 
who 
are  in 
Warwick 
Castle 


and 
Coventry. 

On  Duns- 
more  Heath 
I  slew 

the  Dun 
Cow, 


whose  bones 
are  also  in 
Warwick. 


Another 
Dragon  I 
also  slew, 


and  then 
came  back 
to  Warwick, 

and  lived  a 
hermit' s  life, 


Title  written  in  by  P.— -F.       2  stremght  in  the  MS.— F.        3  do. — P.       "  do. — P. 


202 


GUY   AND    PIIILLIS. 


in  a  cave 
cut  out  of  a 
rock, 


and 

begged  my 
food  at  my 
own  castle 
of  my  wife. 


At  last  I  fell 
sick, 


sent  her  a 
ring, 


closed  my 
dying  eyes. 


I  died  like  a 
palmer  to 
save  my  soul. 


You  may 
see  my 
statue  now. 


where  w^th  my  hands  I  hewed  a  house 

out  of  a  craggy  rocke  of  stone, 
&  liued  like  a  palmer  poore 
28         within  the  caue  my  selfe  alone  ; 

&  daylye  came  to  begg  my  foode 

of  Phillis  att  my  castle  gate, 
not  knowing  1  to  my  loued  wiffe, 
32         who  daylye  moned  for  her  mate  ; 

till  att  the  last  I  fell  soe  sicke, 

yea,  sicke  soe  sore  that  I  must  dye. 
I  sent  to  her  a  ring  of  gold 
36         by  which  shee  knew  me  presently  e  ; 

then  shee,  repairing  to  the  graue, 
befor  that  I  gaue  vp  the  ghost 
shee  closed  vp  my  dying  eyes, 
40         my  Phillis  faire,  whom  I  loued  most. 

thus  dreadfull  death  did  me  arrest, 

to  bring  my  corpes  vnto  the  graue  ; 
&  like  a  palmer  dyed  I, 
44         wherby  I  sought  my  soule  to  saue. 

tho  now  it  be  consumed  to  mold, 

my  body  that  endured  this  toyle, 
my  stature  ingrauen  in  Mold 
48         this  present  time  you  may  behold. 


ffins. 


knowen. — P. 


203 


3ofw  :  a  : 

THE  rescue  of  a  prisoner  was  a  favourite  subject  with  the 
ballad-makers  of  the  Borders.  There  are  in  the  Minstrelsy  of 
the  Scottish  Border  "  no  fewer  than  three  poems  on  the  rescue 
of  prisoners,  the  incidents  in  which  nearly  resemble  each  other ; 
though  the  poetical  description  is  so  different,  that  the  editor 
did  not  think  himself  at  liberty  to  reject  any  one  of  them  as 
borrowed  from  the  others."  These  three  are  Jock  o'  the  Side, 
Kinmont  Willie,  and  Archie  of  Ca'field.  The  ballad  here 
given  for  the  first  time  is  vitally  the  same  with  Jock  o'  the  Side. 
The  persons  are  partly  changed  :  Sybill  o'  the  Side  takes  the 
place  of  the  Lady  Downie  of  Scott's  ballad ;  Much  the  Miller's 
Son  answers  to  the  Laird's  Saft  Wat,  though  as  the  Folio  copy 
does  not  give  the  names  of  the  five  who  accompany  Hobbie 
Noble,  the  Laird's  Saft  Wat  may  have  been  one  of  them.  The 
incidents  differ  very  slightly :  as  at  Culerton  or  Cholerford,  when 
the  rescuers  are  going  and  returning,  at  Newcastle  where  the 
Minstrelsy  copy  brings  in  "  a  proud  porter  "  to  be  duly  made 
away  with,  at  the  gaol  on  the  way  back,  where  that  same  copy 
gives  the  banter  with  which  the  heavy-ironed  prisoner  was 
assailed  by  his  triumphant  friends.  The  Folio  copy  is  a  very 
fresh,  valuable  version  of  the  ballad. 

"  The  reality  of  this  story,"  says  Scott,  "  rests  solely  upon 
the  foundation  of  tradition.  Jock  o'  the  Side  seems  to  have 
been  nephew  to  the  laird  of  Margertoun,  cousin  to  the  Laird's 
Jock,  one  of  his  deliverers,  and  probably  brother  to  Chrystie  of 
the  Syde,  mentioned  in  the  list  of  border  clans,  1597.  Like 
the  Laird's  Jock,  he  is  also  commemorated  by  Sir  Richard 
Maitland  : 


204 


JOHN  I  A  :  SIDE. 


He  is  well  kend,  Johne  of  the  Syde. 

A  greater  theif  did  never  ryde ; 

He  never  tyris 

For  to  brek  byris, 

Our  muir  and  myris  . 

Ouir  gude  and  guide. 


John-a-Side 
is  taken, 

and  sent 
prisoner  to 

Newcastle. 


His  mother, 
Sybill, 


tells  Lord 
Manger  ton. 


PESTER  a  whifeild  1  he  hath  slaine  ; 

&  lohn  a  side,  he  is  tane ; 
&  lohn  is  bound  both  hand  &  foote, 
4         &  to  the  New-castle  he  is  gone. 

but  Tydinges  came  to  the  Sybill  o  the  side, 

by  the  water  side  as  shee  rann ; 
shee  tooke  her  kirtle  by  the  hem, 
8         &  fast  shee  runn  to  Mangerton. 


Lords  and 

Ladies 

lament, 


12 


the  Lord  was  sett  downe  at  his  meate ; 
when  these  tydings  shee  did  him  tell, 
neuer  a  Morsell  might  he  eate. 

but  lords  the  wrunge  their  fingars  white, 
Ladyes  did  pull  themselues  by  the  haire, 

crying  "  alas  and  weladay  ! 

for  lohn  o  the  side  wee  shall  neuer  see  more  2  ! 


and  vow  to 
lose  their  all 


or  rescue 
him. 


16     "  but  weele  goe  sell  our  droues  of  Kine, 

&  after  them  our  oxen  sell, 
&  after  them  our  troopes  of  sheepe, 

but  wee  will  loose  him  out  of  the  New-castell." 


Hobby  Noble      20 
offers  to 
fetch  John, 
with  five 
men. 


but  then  bespake  him  hobby  noble, 
&  spoke  these  words  wonderous  hye, 

giue  me  5  men  to  my  selfe, 
&  He  feitch  lohn  o  the  side  to  thee." 


[page  255] 


1  ?  The  first  i  may  be  t.— F. 


2  maire. — P. 


JOHN  :  A  :  SIDE. 


205 


24     "  yea,  thoust  haue  5,  hobby  noble, 

of  the  best  that  are  in  this  countrye ! 
He  giue  thee  5000,  hobby  Noble, 
that  walke  in  Tyuidale  trulye." 


The  lord 
promises 
5000; 


28     "  nay,  He  haue  but  5,"  saies  hobby  Noble, 

"  that  shall  walke  away  with  mee  ; 
wee  will  ryde  like  noe  men  of  warr  ; 
but  like  poore  badgers1  wee  wilbe." 


but  Hobby 
will  only 
have  five, 


dressed  as 
corn-dealers. 


32     they  stuffet  vp  all  their  baggs  w?'th  straw, 

&  their  steeds  barefoot  must  bee  ; 
"  come  on  my  bretheren,"  sayes  hobby  noble, 
"  come  on  your  wayes,  &  goe  with  mee." 


They  start, 


36     &  when  they  came  to  Culerton  2  ford, 

the  water  was  vp,  they  cold  it  not  goe  ; 
&  then  they  were  ware  of  a  good  old  man, 
how  his  boy  &  hee  were  at  the  plowe. 


but  at 
Culerton 
Ford  find  the 
water  up. 


40     "  but  stand  you  still,"  sayes  hobby  noble, 

"  stand  you  still  heere  at  this  shore, 
&  I  will  ryde  to  yonder  old  man, 
&  see  were  the  gate  3  it  Lyes  ore. 


Hobby 


asks  an  old 
man 


44     "but  christ  you  saue,  father,"  Quoth  hee, 

"  crist  both  you  saue  and  see  ! 

where  is  the  way  oner  this  fford  ? 

for  christs  sake  tell  itt  mee  !  " 


the  way 
over  the 
ford. 


48     "  but  I  haue  dwelled  heere  3  score  yeere, 

soe  haue  I  done  3  score  and  3  ; 
I  neuer  sawe  man  nor  horsse  goe  ore 
except  itt  were  a  horse  of  3.4  " 


The  old  man 
won't  tell  it. 


1  corn-dealers,  Fr.  bladiers. — F. 

2  Challerton,  probably.— P. 


3  way,  ford. — F. 

4  Tree,  qu.— P. 


206 


JOHN  I  A  I  SIDE. 


Hobby  tells 
him  to  go  to 
the  devil, 


52     "  but  fare  thou  well,  thou  good  old  man  ; 

the  devill  in  hell  I  leave  with  thee ! 
noe  better  comfort  heere  this  night 

thow  giues  my  bretheren  heere  &  me." 


and  rides 
back  to  his 
mates. 

They  find 
the  ford, 


but  when  he  came  to  his  brether  againe, 
&  told  this  tydings  full  of  woe, 

&  then  they  found  a  well  good  gate 
they  might  ryde  ore  by  2  and  2. 


and  get  safe 
over, 


60     and  when  they  were  come  oner  the  fforde, 

all  safe  gotten  att  the  last, 
"  thankes  be  to  god  !  "  sayes  hobby  nobble, 
"  the  worst  of  our  perill  is  past." 


cut  down  a 
tree,  33  ft. 
high, 


64     &  then  they  came  into  HOWBEAME  wood, 

&  there  then  they  found  a  tree, 

&  cutt  itt  downe  then  by  the  roote  ; 

the  lenght  was  30  ffoote  and  3. 


carry  it  to 
John-a- 
Side's  prison, 


68     &  4  of  them  did  take  the  planke 
as  light  as  it  had  beene  a  fflee, 
&  carryed  itt  to  the  Newcastle 
where  as  lohn  a  side  did  lye  ; 


and  climb  up 
to  where  he 
is  lamenting 
his  fate. 


72     &  some  did  climbe  vp  by  the  walls, 

&  some  did  climbe  vp  by  1  the  tree, 
vntill  they  came  vpp  to  the  top  of  the  castle 
where  lohn  made  his  moane  trulye  : 


leave  of  his 

mother 

Sybill, 


76     he  sayd,  "  god  be  with  thee,  Sybill  o  the  side  ! 

my  owne  mother  thou  art,"  Qwoth  hee, 
"  if  thou  knew  this  knight  2  I  were  here, 
a  woe  woman  then  woldest  thou  bee  ! 


MS.  eaten  through  by  ink. — F. 


night.— P. 


JOHN  :  A  :  SIDE. 


207 


80     "  &  fare  you  well,  Lore?  Mangerton  ! 
&  eufir  I  say  '  god  be  with  thee  !  ' 
for  if  you  knew  this  night  I  were  heere, 
you  wold  sell  your  land  for  to  loose  mee. 


of  Lord 
Mangerton, 


84     "  &  fare  thou  well,  Much  Millers  sonne  ! 

Much  Millars  sonne,  I  say  ; 
thou  has  beene  better  att  Merke  midnight 
then  euer  thou  was  att  noone  o  the  day. 


of  Much  the 
Miller's  son, 


88     "  &  fare  thou  well,  my  good  Lord  Clough  ! 

thou  art  thy  ffathers  sonne  &  heire ; 
thou  rieuer  saw  him  1  in  all  thy  liffe, 

but  with  him  durst  thou  breake  a  speare. 


and  of  Lord 
Clough  ; 


92     "  wee  are  brothers  childer  9:  or  :10: 

&  sisters  children  10:  or  :11: 
we  neue?1  come  to  the  feild  to  fight, 

but  the  worst  of  us  was  counted  a  man." 


and  boasts 
that  his 
family  is 
large  and 
brave. 


96     but  then  bespake  him  hobynoble, 
&  spake  these  words  vnto  him, 

saies,  "  sleepest  thou,  wakest  thou,  lohn  o  the  side, 
or  art  thou  this  castle  within  ?  " 


Hobby  tells 
him 


100     "  But  who  is  there,"  Qi^oth  lohn  oth  side,        [page  256] 

"  that  knowes  my  name  soe  right  &  free  ?  " 
"  I  am  a  bastard  brother  of  thine  ; 

this  night  I  am  comen  for  to  loose  thee." 


he  has  come 
to  free  him. 


104     "  now  nay,  now  nay,"  qwoth  lohn  othe  side  ; 

"itt  ffeares  me  sore  that  will  not  bee  ; 
ffor  a  pecke  of  gold  &  silver,"  lohn  sayd, 
"infaith  this  night  will  not  loose  mee." 


I  fear  not, 
says  John 


man.— F. 


208 


JOHN  :  A  :  SIDE. 


but  Hobby      108     but  then  bespake  him  hobby  Noble, 

&  till  his  brother  thus  sayd  hee, 
sayes,  "4  shall  take  this  matter  in  hand, 
and  2  shall  tent  our  geldings  ffree." 


says  his  four 
etui  do  it« 


They  break 
and  get  to 

the  iron  one. 


112     for  4  did  breake  one  dore  without, 

then  lohn  brake  5  himsell  ; 
but  when  they  came  to  the  Iron  dore, 
it  smote  12  vpon  the  bell. 


Much  fears 

they'll  be 

taken- 


"  itt  ffeares  me  sore,"  sayd  much  the  Miller, 

J 

"  thai  heere  taken  wee  all  shalbee." 
"  but  goe  away,  bretheren,"  sayd  lohn  a  side, 
"  for  euer,  alas  !  this  will  not  bee." 


Hobby 

reproaches 

him> 


120     "  but  ffye  vpon  thee  !  "  sayd  Hobby  Noble  ; 

J         r  J  J 

"  Much  the  Miller  !  fye  vpon  thee  ! 
"it  sore  feares  me,"  said  Hobby  Noble, 
"  man  that  thou  wilt  neuer  bee." 


door, 

takes  John 

out, 


124     but  then  he  had  fflanders  files  2  or  3, 

&  hee  fyled  downe  that  Iron  dore, 
&  tooke  lohn  out  of  the  New-castle, 

&  sayd  "  looke  thou  neuer  come  heere  more  !  " 


128     when  he  had  him  fforth  of  the  Newcastle, 
"  away  w^th  me,  lohn,  thou  shalt  ryde." 
but  euer  alas  !  itt  cold  not  bee  ; 

for  lohn  cold  neither  sitt  nor  stryde. 


round*  Ms^ 

chains' 
and  sets  him 

on  a  horse 


132      but  then  he  had  sheetS  2  Or  3> 

&  bound  lohns  boults  fast  to  his  ffeete, 
&  sett  him  on  a  well  £0od  steede, 
himselfe  on  another  by  him  seete. 


JOHN  :  A  :  SIDE. 


209 


136     then  Hobby  Noble  smiled  &  louge,1 

&  spoke  these  words  in  mickle  pryde, 
"  thou  sitts  soe  finely  on  thy  geldinge 
thai,  lohn,  thou  rydes  like  a  bryde." 

140     &  when  they  came  thorrow  HOWBRAME  towne, 

lohns  horsse  there  stumbled  at  a  stone  ;  2 
"  out  &  alas  !  "  cryed  much  the  Miller, 
"  lohn,  thoule  make  vs  all  be  tane." 


woman- 
fashion. 


Much  the 
Miller  gets 
into  another 
fright. 


144     "  but  fye  vpon  thee!  "  saies  Hobby  Noble, 

"  much  the  Millar,  fye  on  thee  ! 
I  know  full  well,"  sayes  Hobby  Noble, 
"  man  that  thou  wilt  neuer  bee  !  " 


and  is  again 
snubbed  by 
Hobby 
Noble, 


148     &  when  the  came  into  HOWBRAME  wood, 

he  had  fflanders  files  2  or  3 
to  file  lohns  bolts  beside  his  ffeete, 
that  hee  might  ryde  more  easilye. 


who  files  off 
John's 
chains  from 
his  feet. 


152     sayes  lohn,  "  Now  leape  ouer  a  steede," 

&  lohn  then  hee  lope  ouer  5  : 
"  I  know  well,"  sayes  Hobby  Noble, 
"  lohn,  thy  ffellow  is  not  aliue  !  " 


Thereupon 
John  leaps 
over  five 
horses, 


156     then  he  brought  him  home  to  Mangerton  ; 

the  LorcZ  then  he  was  att  his  meate  ; 
but  when  lohn  o  the  side  he  there  did  see, 
for  faine  hee  cold  noe  more  eate ; 


and  goes 
home  to 
Lord 
Mangerton. 


160     he  sayes  "blest  be  thou,  Hobby  Noble, 

th  at  euer  thou  wast  man  borne  ! 
thou  hast  feitched  vs  home  good  lohn  oth  side 
that  was  now  cleane  ffrom  vs  gone  !  " 

ffins. 


Lord 

Mangerton 

blesses 

Hobby 

Noble. 


1   loughe.— P. 


2  stane.— P. 


VOL.  II. 


210 


Xtfetng*  m  tfce 

THIS  ballad  is  printed  in  the  Reliques,  "  from  two  MS.  copies, 
one  of  them  in  the  Editor's  folio  collection.  They  contained  (sic) 
considerable  variable  variations,  out  of  which  such  readings  were 
chosen  as  seemed  most  poetical  and  consonant  to  history." 

On  the  subject  see  the  Introduction  to  "The  Earle  of  West- 
morelande,"  vol.  i.  p.  292,  and  Percy's,  in  the  Reliques,  i.  248, 
ls.fc  ed. 


Listen, 


and  I'll  tell 
all  about  it. 


[,  liuely  lordings  all, 
&  all  thai  beene  this  place  within  ! 
if  youle  giue  eare  vnto  my  songe, 
4         I  will  tell  you  how  this  geere  did  begin. 


The  Earl  of 
Westmore 
land 

turned 
traitor ; 


It  was  the  goad  Erie  of  westmorlande, 

a  noble  Erie  was  called  hee  ; 
&  he  wrought  treason  against  the  crowne  ; 

alas,  itt  was  the  more  pittye  ! 


so  did  the 
Earl  of 
North 
umberland. 


12 


&  soe  itt  was  the  Erie  of  Northumberland, 

another  good  Noble  Erie  was  hee, 
they  tooken  both  vpon  one  part,  [page  257] 

against  their  crowne  they  wolden  bee. 


Earl  Percy 
tells  his  wife 


he  must 
fight  or  flee. 


Earle  Pearcy  is  into  his  garden  gone, 

&  after  walkes  his  awne  ladye  2  ; 
"  I  heare  a  bird  sing  in  my  eare 
16          thai  I  must  either  flight  or  fflee." 


1  A.D.  1569.  N.B.— To  correct  this 
by  my  other  copy,  w^zch  seems  more 
modern. — P.  The  other  copy  in  many 


parts  preferable  to  this. — Pencil  note. 

2  This  lady  was   Anne,  daughter    of 
Henry  Somerset,  E.  of  Worcester. — Eel. 


RISINGE    IN    THE   NORTHE. 


211 


"  god  fforbidd,"  sliee  sayd,  "  good  my  lord, 

thai  euer  soe  thai  it  shalbee  ! 
but  goe  to  London  to  the  court, 

&  faire  ffall  truth  &  honesty  e  !  " 


She  advises 
him  to  go  to 
court. 


"  but  nay,  now  nay,  my  La  dye  gay, 

that  euer  it  shold  soe  bee  ; 
my  treason  is  knowen  well  enoughe  ; 
24          att  the  court  I  must  not  bee." 


his  treason 
is  too  well 
known. 


' '  but  goe  to  the  Court !  yet,  good  my  Lore?, 

take  men  enowe  with  thee  ; 
if  any  man  will  doe  you  wronge, 
28          your  warrant  they  l  may  bee." 


She  again 
says,  "  Go  to 
court  with 
plenty  of 


"  but  Nay,  Now  Nay,  my  Lady  gay, 

for  soe  itt  must  not  bee  ; 
If  I  goe  to  the  court,  Ladye, 
32          death  will  strike  me,  &  I  must  dye." 


No,  says  the 
Earl, 

it  would  be 

certain 

death. 


"  but  goe  to  the  Court !  yett,  [good]  my  Lord, 

I  my-selfe  will  ryde  with  thee  ; 
if  any  man  will  doe  you  wronge, 
36          yo^r  borrow  2  I  shalbee." 


She  offers  to 
go  with  him. 


"but  Nay,  Now  nay,  my  Lady  gay, 

for  soe  it  must  not  bee ; 
for  if  I  goe  to  the  Court,  Ladye, 
40          thou  must  me  neuer  see. 


He  still 
refuses, 


"  but  come  hither,  thou  litle  footpage, 

come  thou  hither  vnto  mee, 
for  thou  shalt  goe  a  Message  to  Master  Norton 
44          in  all  the  hast  that  euer  may  bee : 


but  sends  a 
page  to  ask 


Master 
Norton 


1  altered  from  them. — F.     they. — P.          fide  jussor,  vadimonium,  pignus.    A.-S. 

2  Borrow,  borow,  borge.     Sponsor,  yas,       borge,  borhoc,  Lye. — P. 

p  2 


212 


KISINGE  IN   THE   NORTHE. 


to  go  with 
him. 


48 


"  comend  me  to  thai  gentleman  ; 

bring  him  here  this  letter  from  mee, 
&  say,  '  I  pray  him  Earnestlye 

that  hee  will  ryde  in  my  companye.'  " 


The  page 
hurries  off 


Norton, 


but  one  while  the  foote  page  went, 

another  while  he  rann  ; 
vntill  he  came  to  Master  Norton, 
52          the  ffoot  page  nener  blanne  ; l 


and  gives 
him  the 
letter. 


&  when  he  came  to  Master  Nortton, 

he  kneeled  on  his  knee, 
&  tooke  the  letter  betwixt  his  hands, 
56          &  lett  the  gentleman  it  see. 


&  when  the  letter  itt  was  reade 

affore  all  his  companye, 
I-wis,2  if  you  wold  know  the  truth, 
60          there  was  many  a  weeping  eye. 


Norton  asks 
his  son 
Kester 

for  advice. 


he  said,  "  come  hither,  Kester3  Nortton, 

a  nine  ffellow  thou  seemes  to  bee  ; 
some  good  councell,  Kester  Nortton, 
64          this  day  doe  thou  giue  to  mee." 


Kester  tells 

him  not  to 
draw  back 
from  his 
word. 


"  marry,  He  giue  you  councell,  ffather, 

if  youle  take  councell  att  me, 
that  if  you  haue  spoken  the  word,  father, 
68          that  backe  againe  you  doe  not  flee." 


Norton 


promises 
him  reward, 


"  god  amercy,  Christopher  Nortton, 

I  say,  god  amercye  ! 
if  I  doe  Hue  &  scape  with  liffe, 
72         well  advanced  shalt  thou  bee  ; 


1  cessavit. — P. 

2  to  wis,   to    know. 
Johns.— P. 


Germ. 


3  Kester,  Christopher.  Northern.  Hal- 
liwell's  Glossary. — F. 


BISINGE    IN    THE   NORTHE. 


213 


76 


"  but  come  you  hither,  my  9  good  sonnes, 
in  mens  estate  I  thinke  you  bee  ; 

how  many  of  you,  my  children  deare, 
on  my  part  that  wilbe  ?  " 


and  asks  his 
own  nine 
sons 

who  will  be 
on  his  side. 


but  8l.h  of  them  did  answer  soone, 

&  spake  ffull  hastilye, 
sayes  "  we  wilbe  on  jour  part,  ffather, 
80        till  the  day  that  we  doe  dye." 


Eight  vow 


to  be  with 
him  to  the 
death. 


"  but  god  amercy,  my  children  deare, 

&  euer  I  say  godamercy  ! 
&  yett  my  blessing  you  shall  haue, 
84         whether-soeuer  I  Hue  or  dye. 


[page  258] 


"  but  what  sayst  thou,  thou  ffrancis  Nortton, 

mine  eldest  sonne  &  mine  heyre  trulye  ? 
some  good  councell,  ffrancis  Nortton, 
88          this  day  thou  giue  to  me." 


He  asks  his 
eldest  son, 
Francis, 

for  advice ; 


"  but  I  will  giue  you  councell,  ffather, 

if  you  will  take  councell  att  mee ; 
for  if  you  wold  take  my  councell,  father, 
92          against  the  crowne  you  shold  not  bee." 


and  he 
answers 


Don't  go 
against  the 
Crown. 


"  but  ffye  vpon  thee,  ffrancis  Nortton  ! 

I  say  ffye  vpon  thee  ! 
when  thou  was  younge  &  tender  of  age 
96          I  made  ffull  much  of  thee." 

"but  jour  head  is  white,  ffather,"  he  sayes, 
"  &  your  beard  is  wonderous  gray  ; 

.     .  i    _        _    nr> 


100 


J 

1  &  jour  beard  is  wonderous  gi 
itt  were  shame  ffor  your  country e 
if  you  shold  rise  &  mee  away." 


Norton 
reproaches 
his  son 
Francis, 


214 


KISINGE   IN    THE   NORTHE. 


and  call  shim 
a  coward. 


"  but  ffye  vpon  thee,  thou  coward  ffrancis  ! 

thou  neuer  tookest  thai  of  mee  ! 
wlien  thou  was  younge  &  tender  of  age 
104         I  made  too  much  of  thee." 


Francis 
offers  to  go 
unarmed, 
but  invokes 
death  on 
traitors. 


103 


"  but  I  will  goe  w^th  you,  father,"  Q^oth  hee  ; 

"  like  a  Naked  man  will  I  bee  ; 

he    thai     strikes    the     first    stroake    against    the 
crowne, 

an  ill  death  may  hee  dye  !  " 


Norton  and 
his  men  join 
the  Earls 


at  Wether- 


they  have 
13,000  men. 


Westmore 
land's 
standard  is 
the  Dun 
Bull, 


Northum  - 
berland's  the 
half -moon. 


but  then  rose  vpp  faster  Nortton  that  Esqm'er, 

w^th  him  a  ffull  great  companye ; 
&  then  the  Erles  they  comen  downe 
112         to  ryde  in  his  companye. 

att  whethersbye  the  mustered  their  men 

vpon  a  ffull  fayre  day  ; 
13000  there  were  seene 
116         to  stand  in  battel  ray.1 

the  Erie  of  Westmoreland,  he  had  in  his  ancyent2 

the  DUMB  bull  in  sight  most  hye, 
&  3  doggs  w^th  golden  collers 
120         were  sett  out  royallye. 

the    Erie    of    Northumberland,    he     had    in    his 

ancyent 3 

the  halfe  moone  in  sight  soe  hye, 
as  the  Lon#  was  crucifyed  on  the  crosse, 
124         &  sett  forthe  pleasantlye. 


1  array. — P. 

2  Ensign,  standard.    See  vol.  i.  p.  304, 
for    the    Dun    Bull.      That    of    Nevill 
(Chevet,  Co.  York ;  granted  1513),  is  "A 
greyhound's  head  erased  or,  charged  on 
the  neck  with  a  label  of  three  points, 
vert,  between  as  many  pellets,  one  and 
two."     The  crest  of  Nevill  (Ireland),  is  a 
greyhound's  head,  erased  argent,  collared 


gules,  charged  with  a  harp  or.     Surge's 
Armorie. — F. 

3  Burke  gives  the  Percy  (Duke  of 
Northumberland)  badge  as  '  A  crescent 
argent  within  the  horns,  per  pale,  sable 
and  gules,  charged  with  a  double 
manacle,  fesseways  or.'  Armorie,  1847. 
-F. 


RISINGE    IN    THE   NORTHE. 


215 


128 


&  after  them  did  rise  good  S^r  George  Bowes,1 

after  them  a  spoyle  to  make  ; 
the  Erles  returned  backe  againe, 

thought  euer  thai  JLnighi  to  take. 


Sir  G.  Bowes 
rises  behind 
them. 

They  turn 
back, 


this  Barron  did  take  a  Castle  then, 

was  made  of  lime  &  stone  ; 
the  vttermost  walls  were  ese  to  be  woon ; 
132         the  Erles  haue  woon  them  anon  ; 


take  the 
outer  walls 
of  his  castle 


but  tho  they  woone  the  vttermost  walls 

quickly  and  anon, 

the  iimermust 2  walles  the  cold  not  winn, 
136         the  were  made  of  a  rocke  of  stone. 

but  newes  itt  came  to  leeue  London 

in  all  they  speede  thai  euer  might  bee  ; 
&  word  it  came  to  our  royall  Queene 
1 40         of  all  the  rebells  in  the  North  countrye. 


but  can't 
win  the 
inner. 


News  of  the 
rebellion 
reaches 
London. 


shee  turned  her  grace  then  once  about, 

&  like  a  royall  Queene  shee  sware,3 
sayes,  "  I  will  ordaine  them  such  a  breake-fast 
144         as  was  not  in  the  North  this  1000  yeere!  " 


Elizabeth 
swears  she'll 
give  the 
rebels  a 
breakfast 
they  won't 
stomach. 


shee  caused  30000  men  to  be  made 

with  horsse  and  harneis  all  quicklye  ; 
&  shee  caused  30000  men  to  be  made 
148         to  take  the  rebells  in  the  North  countrye. 


She  sends 
30,000  men 


against  them 


they  tooke  with  them  the  false  Erie  of  Warwicke,  under  Lord 

J  '    Warwick. 


soe  did  they  many4  another  man  ; 
vntill  they  came  to  yorke  Castle, 
152         I-wis  they  neuer  stinted  nor  blan. 


They  march 
to  York, 


1  Bowes.— P. 

2  imermust  in  MS. — P. 

8  This  is  quite  in  character  :  her  ma 
jesty   would    sometimes   swear   at   her 


nobles,  as  well  as  box  their  ears. 
liques,  i.  255. — F. 

4  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS F. 


Be- 


216 


KISINGE   IN   THE   NOETHE. 


but  West 
moreland, 


Northum 
berland, 


and  Norton 
flee  like 
cowards. 


"  spread  thy  ancyent,  Erie  of  Westmoreland  ! 

The  halfe  moone  ffaine  wold  wee  see !  "       [page  259] 
but  the  halfe  moone  is  fled  &  gone, 
156         &  the  Dun  bull  vanished  awaye  ; 
&  ffrancis  Nortton  &  his  8  sonnes 

are  ffled  away  most  cowardlye. 

Ladds  w^th  mony  are  counted  men, 
160         men  without  mony  are  counted  none  ; 
but  hold  JQUY  tounge  !  why  say  you  soe  ? 
men  wilbe  men  when  mony  is  gone. 

ffins. 


217 


:  33etrapt»  bj> 

[A  Sequel  to  the  preceding. — P.] 

THIS  ballad  is  printed  in  the  Reliques  (from  another  copy)  and 
elsewhere. 

After  the  dispersion  of  their  forces,  the  rebel  Earls  of 
Westmoreland  and  Northumberland  sought  refuge  in  the 
Borders.  See  Introduction  to  Earl  of  Westmoreland,  vol.  i. 
p.  294.  Neville  found  his  trust  in  the  Borderers  justified;  but 
Percy  was  betrayed  to  the  Regent  Moray  by  Hector  Graham 
(not  Armstrong,  as  the  ballad,  v.  209,  calls  him)  of  Harkw ; 
whose  name  became  thenceforward  infamous,  to  take  Hector's 
cloke  becoming  a  proverbial  phrase  for  betraying  a  friend. 
Moray's  successor,  the  Earl  of  Morton,  who  during  his  exile  in 
England  has  received  many  kindnesses  from  Northumberland, 
"sold  his  unhappy  prisoner  to  Elizabeth,"  in  May  1572.  He 
delivered  him  up  to  Lord  Hunsdon,  governor  of  Berwick,  who 
sent  him  to  York,  where  he  was  executed. 

The  extradition  of  the  refugee  by  Morton  gave  as  deep  dis 
satisfaction  to  the  country  at  large  as  his  betrayal  by  Hector  of 
Harlaw  did  to  the  Borderers.  Many  furious  ballads  made  their 
appearance,  as  — '  Ane  exclamation  maid  in  England  upone  the 
delyverance  of  the  Erie  of  Northumberlan  furth  of  Lochlevin, 
quho  immediattlie  thairefter  was  execute  in  Yorke,  1572  ' — the 
answer  to  the  English  ballad,  '  Ane  schort  inveccyde  maid  aganis 
the  delyverance  of  the  Erie  of  Northumberland.'  The  present 

1  Whose  Sister  being  an  enchantress  omitted  here. — P. 

would  have  saved  him,  from  her  Brother's  N.B.  The    other     Copy   begins   with 

treachery. — P.  Lines   the   same   as   that   in  pag.   112. 

This  song  seems  unfinished. — P.  [Earfe  of  Westmorelande  i.   300.]     The 

N.B.  My  other  Copy  is  more  correct  minstrels    often    made   such     Changes. 

than  this,  and  contains  much  wfo'ch  is  — Pencil  note. 


218 


NORTHUMBERLAND   BETRAYD    BY   DOWGLAS. 


ballad  so  far  recognises  this  national  feeling  as  to  introduce  a 
Scotch  woman  using  her  utmost  endeavours  to  preserve  the  Earl, 
from  the  snare  laid  for  him.  Mary  Douglas1  represents  Scotia. 
But  the  Earl  will  not  listen.  He  goes  away  with  her  brother, 
his  keeper,  to  be  the  victim  of  a  second  betrayal,  which  was 
finally  to  conduct  him  to  the  scaffold  at  York. 


I'll  tell  you 
how  Douglas 
betrayed 
banished 
Percy. 


NOW  list  &  lithe  you  gentlemen, 

&  1st  tell  you  the  veretye, 
how  they  haue  delt  w^th  a  banished  man, 
4          driuen  out  of  his  countrye. 


At  supper 


they  ask 
Percy 


when  as  hee  came  on  Scottish  ground, 

as  woe  &  wonder  be  them  amonge, 
ffull  much  was  there  traitorye 
8          the  wrought  the  Erie  of  Northumberland. 

when  they  were  att  the  supper  sett, 

beffore  many  goodly  gentlemen 

the  ffell  a  fflouting  &  Mocking  both, 

12          &  said  to  the  Erie  of  Northumberland, 


to  go  to  a 
shooting  in 
Scotland. 


"what  makes  you  be  soe  sad,  my  Lord, 

&  in  yo^r  mind  soe  sorrowffullye  ? 
in  the  North  of  Scottland  to-morrow  theres  a  shooting, 
16          &  thither  thoust  goe,  my  ~Lord  Percye. 

"  the  buttes  are  sett,  &  the  shooting  is  made, 

&  there  is  like  to  be  great  royaltye, 
&  I  am  sworne  into  my  bill 
20          thither  to  bring  my  Lord  Pearcy." 


1  "  The  interposal  of  the  WITCH-LADY 
[1.  26,  here]  is  probably  his  [the  northern 
bard's]  own  invention :  yet  even  this  j 

hath  some  countenance  from  history ;  for       presumed,  is  the  lady  alluded  to  in  verse  " 
about  25  years   before,  the  Lady  Jane       [101  here].    Eeliques,  i.  258. — F. 
Douglas,  Lady  Glamis,  sister  of  the  earl 


of  Angus  and  nearly  related  to  Douglas 
of  Loughleven,  had  suffered  death  for  the 
pretended  crime  of  witchcraft ;  who,  it  is 


NORTHUMBERLAND    BETRAYD    BY    DOWGLAS. 


219 


24 


"  lie  giue  thee  my  Land,1  Douglas,"  he  sayes, 

&  be  the  faith  in  my  bodye, 
if  that  thou  wilt  ryde  to  the  worlds  end, 

He  ryde  in  thy  companye." 


Percy  pro 
mises  to  go 
with 
Douglas. 


&  then  bespake  the  good  Ladye, — 

Marry  a  Douglas  was  her  name, — 
"  you  shall  byde  here;  good  English  ~Lord  ; 
28          my  brother  is  a  traiterous  man  ; 

"  he  is  a  traitor  stout  &  stronge, 

as  1st2  tell  you  the  veretye, 
for  he  hath  tane  liuerance  of  the  Erie,3 
32  &  into  England  he  will  liuor  thee." 


Mary 
Douglas 


warns  Percy 
that  her 
brother  is  a 
traitor 


and  will  give 
him  up  to 
the  English. 


"  now  hold  thy  tounge,  thou  goodly e  Ladye, 

&  let  all  this  talking  bee  ; 
ffor  all  the  gold  thats  in  Loug  Leuen,4 
36          william  wold  not  Liuor  mee  ! 


Percy  de 
clares  that 
he  trusts 
Douglas. 


"it  wold  breake  truce  betweene  England  &  Scottland, 

&  freinds  againe  they  wold  neuer  bee 
if  he  shold  liuor  a  bani[s]ht  5  Erie 
40          was  driuen  out  of  his  owne  countrye." 


"  hold  yo^r  tounge,  my  Lore?,"  shee  sayes, 

"  there  is  much  falsehood  them  amonge  ; 
when  you  are  dead,  then  they  are  done, 
44          soone  they  will  part  them  freinds  againe. 


Mary 
Douglas 


"  if  you  will  giue  me  any  trust,  my  Lord, 

He  tell  you  how  you  best  may  bee ; 
youst  lett  my  brother  ryde  his  wayes, 
48          &  tell  those  English  Lords  trulye 


1  hand.     Beliques. — F. 

2  I'll.     See  note  4,  p.  20,  vol.  i. — F. 

8  pay  "  of  the  earl  of  Morton  : "  James 
Douglas,  Earl  of  Morton,  elected  regent 


of  Scotland,  Nov.  24,  1572. 
p.  251,  259.— F. 

4  Lough  Leven. — P. 

4  banisht.— P. 


advises 
Percy 


to  let 

Douglas  go 
alone, 

Ed  voL  i. 


220 


NORTHUMBERLAND   BETRAYD    BY   DOWGLAS. 


and  then 
she'll  see 
him  safe 


into  Lord 
Hume's 


"  how  thai  you  cannot  w^th  them  ryde 

because  you  are  in  an  He  of  the  sea l  ; 
then,  ere  my  Brother  come  againe, 
52          to  Edenborrow  castle2  He  carry  thee, 

"  He  liuor  you  vnto  the  Lord  HUME, 

&  you  know  a  trew  Scothe  Lord  is  hee, 
for  he  hath  lost  both  Land  &  goods 
56          in  ayding  of  yo^r  good  bodye." 


Percy  says 
that  no 
friend  shall 
suffer  for 
him  again, 


his  old  ad 
herents  have 


suffered 
enough. 


Mary 
Douglas 
offers  to 
prove  her 
words. 


Percy  will 
have  nothing 
to  do  with 
her  witch 
craft. 


"  marry  !  I  am  woe  !  woman,"  he  sayes, 
"  that  any  freind  fares  worse  for  mee  ; 
for  where  one  saith  'it  is  a  true  tale,' 
60          then  2  will  say  it  is  a  Lye. 

"  when  I  was  att  home  in  my  [realme,]  3 

amonge  my  tennants  all  trulye, 
in  my  time  of  losse,  wherin  my  need  stoode, 
64          they  came  to  ayd  me  honestlye  ; 

"  therfore  I  left  many  a  child  ffatherlese, 

&  many  a  widdow  to  looke  wanne  ; 
&  therfore  blame  nothing,  Ladye, 
68          but  the  woeffull  warres  which  I  began." 

"  If  you  will  giue  me  noe  trust,  my  Lord, 

nor  noe  credence  you  will  give  mee, 
&  youle  come  hither  to  my  right  hand, 
72          indeed,  my  Lord,4  He  lett  you  see." 

saies,  "  I  neuer  loued  noe  witchcraft, 

nor  neuer  dealt  w*th  treacherye, 
but  euermore  held  the  hye  way  ; 
76          alas  !  that  may  be  seene  by  mee  !  " 


[page  260] 


1  i.  e.  Lake  of  Leven,  which  hath  com 
munication  with  the  sea. — Eel.  i.  261. 

2  At  that  time  in  the  hands  of  the 
opposite  faction. — Eel. 


8  This  line  is  partly  pared  away. — F. 
4  ?  MS.  Lorid,   or  Loue-rd  ;  or  Lord, 
with  one  stroke  too  many. — F. 


NORTHUMBERLAND    BETRAYD    BY    DOW&LAS. 


221 


80 


"  if  you  will  not  come  your  selfe,  my  Lord, 
youle  lett  yowr  chamberlaine  goe  with  mee, 

3  words  thai  I  may  to  him  speake, 

&  soone  he  shall  come  again e  to  thee." 


Mary 
Douglas 
shows  the 
chamberlain 


when  lames  Swynard  came  that  Lady  before,  through  her 

,  in  •  ring  the  lievs 

shee  let  him  see  thorrow  the  weme  l  oi  her  ring      in  wait  for 

Percy  ; 

how  many  there  was  of  English  lords 
84          to  wayte  there  for  his  faster  and  him. 


"  but  who  beene  yonder,  my  2  good  Ladye, 
that  walkes  soe  royallye  on  yonder  greene  ?  ' 

"  yonder  is  "Lord  Hunsden,3  lamye,"  she  saye  ; 
"alas  !  heele  doe  you  both  tree4  &  teene  !  " 


Lord  Huns- 
den, 


"  &  who  beene  yonder,  thou  gay  Ladye, 

that  walkes  soe  royallye  him  beside  ?  " 

"yond  is  Sir  william  Drurye,5  lamy,"  shee  sayd,        and  sir  Wm. 
92          "  &  a  keene  Captam  hee  is,  and  tryde." 


Drurye, 


"  how  many  miles  is  itt-,  thou  good  Ladye, 
betwixt  yond  English  Lord  and  mee  ?  " 
"  marry,  3?  50  mile,  lamy,"  shee  sayd, 
96          "  &  euen  to  seale  6  &  by  the  sea  : 


(150  miles 
off. 


"  I  neuer  was  on  English  ground, 
nor  neuer  see  itt  with  mine  eye, 
but  as  rny  witt  &  wisedome  serues, 
100         and  as  [the]  booke  it  telleth  mee.- 


"  my  mother,  shee  was  a  witch  woman, 

and  part  of  itt  shee  learned  mee  ; 
shee  wold  let  me  see  out  of  Lough  Leuen 
104         what  they  dyd  in  London  Cytye." 


as  her 
mother's 
witchcraft 
tells  her.) 


1  weme,   the   Scottish  word    for  the 
belly,  i.  e.  womb. — P. 


2  ny  in  MS.— F. 

3  Th 


e    Lord    Warden     of    the     East 


Marches. — Eel.  \.  263. 

4  dre,  dree,  to  suffer,  endure. — P. 

5  Governor  of  Berwick. — Eel,  i.  264. 

6  saile.— P. 


222 


NORTHUMBERLAND   BETRAYD   BY   DOWGLAS. 


and  Sir  J. 
Forster. 


"  but  who  is  yond,  thou  good  Layde, 

thai  comes  yonder  w^th  an  Osterne  l  fface  ?  " 
"  yonds  S^r  lohn  fforster,2  lamye,"  shee  sayd  ; 
108        "  methinkes    thou    sholdest    better    know    him 

then  I." 

"  Euen  soe  I  doe,  my  goodlye  Ladye, 
&  euer  alas,  soe  woe  am  I !  " 


The  cham 
berlain 
weeps, 

and  tells 
Lord  Percy 


he  pulled  his  hatt  ouer  his  eyes, 
112        &,  lord,  he  wept  soe  tenderlye  ! 
he  is  gone  to  his  faster  againe, 
&  euen  to  tell  him  the  veretye. 


that  Mary  "  Now  hast  thou  beene  w^th  Marry,  lamy,"  he  sayd, 

116        "  Euen  as  thy  tounge  will  tell  to  mee; 
but  if  thou  trust  in  any  womans  words, 
thou  must  refraine  good  companye." 


has  shown 
him  the 
English 
Lords  wait 
ing  to  take 
him, 


"It  is  noe  words,  my  Lord,"  he  sayes, 
120        "yonder  the  men  shee  letts  me  see, 
how  many  English  Lords  there  is 
is  wayting  there  for  you  &  mee ; 


with  Lord 
Hunsden, 


his  greatest 
enemy. 


"  yonder  I  see  the  Lor<i  Hunsden, 
124        &  hee  &  you  is  of  the  3d.  degree  ; 
a  greater  enemye,  indeed,  my  Lord, 
in  England  none  haue  yee," 


Percy  says 
that  he's 
been  three 
years  in  jail, 


"  &  I  haue 'beene  in  Lough  Leven 
128        the  most  p&rt  of  these  yeeres  3  : 
yett  had  I  neuer  noe  out- rake,3 
nor  good  games  thai  I  cold  see  ; 


1  Austerne,  austere,  fierce.  L.  austerus. 
Gloss,  ad  G.D.— P. 

2  Warden  of  the  Middle  March.— Bel. 
i.  264. 

3  rake  raiJc,  ambulare,  expatiari.     As 
Isl.  reika.  Baik  gradus  citatus,  a  long 


raik,  Iter  longum,  to  raik  home,  ac 
celerate  gradu  domum  abire;  hinc  a 
Bake,  homo  dissolutus ;  an  out-raik,  a 
Eiot,  at  large.  Lye.  See  G-.D.  224.  39. 
—P. 


NORTHUMBERLAND    BETRAYD    BY   DOWGLAS. 


223 


"  &  I  am  thus  bidden  to  yonder  shooting 
132        by  william  Douglas  all  trulye  ; 

therfore  speake  neuer  a  word  out  of  thy  mouth 
That  thou  thinkes  will  hinder  mee.1         [page26i] 


and  he  will 
go  to  the 
shooting 
with 
Douglas. 


then  he  writhe  the  gold  ring  of  his  ffingar2 
136        &  gaue  itt  to  that  Ladye  gay; 

sayes,  "  that  was  a  legacye  left  vnto  mee 
in  Harley  woods  where  I  cold  3  bee." 


He  gives 
Mary  a  gold 
ring. 


"  then  ffarewell  hart,  &  farewell  hand, 
140        and  flarwell  all  good  companye  ! 
that  woman  shall  neuer  beare  a  sonne 
shall  know  soe  much  of  your  priuitye." 


She  laments 
over  him. 


"  now  hold  thy  tounge,  Ladye,"  hee  sayde, 
144        "  &  make  not  all  this  dole  for  mee, 

for  I  may  well  drinke,  but  1st  neuer  eate, 
till  againe  in  Lough  Leuen  I  bee." 


He  says  he 
shall  soon  be 
back, 


he  tooke  his  boate  att  the  Lough  Leuen 
148        for  to  sayle  now  ouer  the  sea, 

&  he  hath  cast  vpp  a  siluer  wand, 

saies  "  fare  thou  well,  my  good  Ladye  !  " 

the  Ladye  looked  ouer  her  left  sholder  ; 
152        in  a  dead  swoone  there  fell  shee. 


and  gets  into 
the  boat  to 
sail  away. 


Mary 
Do  ugl 
swoons. 


"  goe  backe  againe,  Douglas  !  "  he  sayd, 

"  &  I  will  goe  in  thy  companye, 
for  sudden  sicknesse  yonder  Lady  has  tane, 
156        and  euer,  alas,  shee  will  but  dye  ! 


Percy  asks 
her  brother 
to  return, 

as  she  will 
die. 


1  Part  cut  away  by  the  binder. — F. 
Percy  gives  the  verse  as : 

Therefore  I'll  to  yond  shooting  wend, 
As  to  the  Douglas  I  have  hight : 


Betide  me  weale,  betide  me  woe, 

He  ne'er  shall  find  my  promise  light. 

2  A.-S.  wri&an  to   twist:   perf.  wrd$ 
twisted.  — F. 

3  did.— F. 


224 


NORTHUMBERLAND   BETRATD   BY   DOWGLAS. 


160 


"if  ought  come  to  yonder  Ladye  but  good, 
then  blamed  fore  that  I  shall  bee, 

because  a  banished  man  I  am, 

&  driuen  out  of  my  owne  countrye." 


Douglas 
refuses ; 


the  ladies  can 
look  after  his 
sister. 


"  come  on,  come  on,  my  Lord,"  he  sayes, 

"  &  lett  all  such  talking  bee  ; 
theres  Ladyes  enow  in  Lough  Leuen, 
164         &  for  to  cheere  yonder  gay  Ladye." 


Percy  atks 
that  his 
Chamberlain 
may  go  back 
with  him. 


"  &  you  will  not  goe  yo^r  selfe,  my  lord, 

you  will  lett  my  chamberlaine  goe  w^th  mee  ; 
wee  shall  now  take  our  boate  againe, 
168         &  soone  wee  shall  ouertake  thee." 


Douglas  says 


it's  only  his 

sister's 

tricks. 


"  come  on,  come  on,  my  Lord,"  he  sayes, 

"  &  lett  now  all  this  talking  bee  ! 
ffor  my  sister  is  craftye  enoughe 
172        for  to  beguile  thousands  such  as  you  &  mee." 


They  sail  50 
miles : 


the  Cham 
berlain  asks 
how  far  it  is 
to  the 
shooting. 

Douglas 
says 


he'll  never 
see  it. 


When  they  had  sayled  l  50  :  myle, 

now  50  mile  vpon  the  sea, 
hee  had  fforgotten  a  message  that  hee 
176         shold  doe.  in  lough  Leuen  trulye  : 

hee  asked  c  how  ffarr  it  was  to  that  shooting. 

that  william  Douglas  promised  mee.' 

now  faire  words  makes  fooles  faine2  ; 
180        &  that  may  be  seene  by  thy  M.aster  &  thee  ; 
ffor  you  may  happen  think3  itt  soone  enoughe 
when-euer  you  that  shooting  see." 


1  There  is  no  navigable  stream  between 
Lousrh-leven  and  the  sea:  but  a  ballad- 
maker  is  not  obliged  to  understand  Geo 
graphy. — Bel.  i.  266. 

2  Belle  promesse  fol  lie:  Prov.  Faire 
promises   oblige   the   fool ;  or,   are  noe 


better  than  fopperies ;  (for  the  words  fol 
lie  equivocate  vnto  folie.}  Douces  pro- 
messes  obligent  les  fols :  Prov.  Faire 
promises  oblige  fools ;  or,  (as  our)  faire 
words  make  fools  faine. — F. 
3  A  Lancashire  phrase. — F. 


NORTHUMBERLAND    BETRAYD    BY    DOWG1 

lamye  pulled  his  hatt  now  oner  his  browe  ; 
184        I  wott  the  teares  fell  in  his  eye  ; 
&  he  is  to  his  Master  againe, 
&  ffor  to  tell  him  the  veretye  : 


"  he  sayes,  fayre  words  makes  fooles  faine, 
188        &  thai  may  be  seene  by  you  and  mee, 

ffor  wee  may  happen  thinke  itt  soone  enoughe 
when-euer  wee  that  shooting  see." 


"  hold  vpp  thy  head,  lamye,"  the  Erie  sayd, 
192         &  neuer  lett  thy  hart  fayle  thee ; 
he  did  itt  but  to  proue  thee  with, 

&  see  how  thow  wold  take  with  death  trulye." 


Percy  says 
Douglas 


was  only 
trying  his 
courage. 


when  they  had  sayled  other  50  mile, 
196         other  50  mile  vpon  the  sea, 

LonZ  Peercy  called  to  him,  himselfe, 

&   sayd,    "Douglas    what   wilt    thou   doe   with 
mee  ?  " 


After  100 
miles'  sail, 


Percy  asks 
Douglas 
what  he'll 
do  with  him. 


"  looke  tJiat  your  brydle  be  wight,  my  Lord, 
200        that  you  may  goe  as  a  shipp  att  sea  ; 

looke  that  jour  spurres  be  bright  &  sharpe, 
that  you  may  pricke  her  while  sheele  awaye. 


Douglas  tells 
him  to  have 
his  bridle 
and  spurs 
ready. 


"  what  needeth  this,  Douglas,"  he  sayth. 
204        "  that  thou  needest  to  ffloute  mee  ? 
for  I  was  counted  a  horsseman  good 
before  that  euer  I  mett  with  thee. 


Percy  asks 
"why  this 
mockery  ? 


"  A  ffalse  Hector  hath  my  horsse  ; 
208        &  euer  an  euill  death  may  hee  dye  ! 
&  willye  Armestronge  hath  my  spurres 
&  all  the  geere  belongs  to  mee." 

VOL.    II.  Q   •' 


[page  262]    My  horse 

and  spurs  are 
in  others' 
hands." 


224 


Douglas 
refuses ; 


the  ladies  can 
look  after  his 


NORT] 


160 


ITHUMBERLAND   BETRAYD   BY   DOWGLAS. 

when  the  had  sayled  other  50  mile, 

other  50  mile  vpon  the  sea, 
the  landed  low  by  Barwicke  side ; 

a  deputed  land  *  Landed  Lore?  Percye. 

ffin[s2]. 


3.      Percy    prints    'The 
(el.  i.    268,  and  winds  up 
.ed  stanza : 

at  Yorke  was  doomde  to  dye, 


It  was,  alas  !  a  sorrowful  sight : 
Thus  they  betrayed  that  noble  earle, 
Who  ever  was  a  gallant  wight. — F. 

2  s  pared  off  by  the  binder. — F. 


227 


:  of  : 

[The  fight  between  him  and  Robin  Hood.— P,  ] 

THIS  ballad  was  printed  from  the  Folio  in  the  Reliques,  and 
from  the  Reliques  by  Ritson,  Child,  and  others. 

"  As  for  Guy  of  Gisborne,"  says  Kitson,  "  the  only  further 
memorial  which  has  occurred  concerning  him  is  in  an  old 
satirical  piece  by  William  Dunbar,  a  celebrated  Scottish  poet 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  on  one  Schir  Thomas  Nory  (MS. 
Maitland,  p.  3,  MMS.  More  (1.  5.  10)  where  he  is  named  along 
with  our  hero,  Adam  Bell,  and  other  worthies,  it  is  conjectured 
of  a  similar  stamp,  but  whose  merits  have  not,  less  fortunately, 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  posterity. 

Was  nevir  Weild  Robeine  under  bewch, 
.Nor  yitt  Roger  of  Clekkinslowch 

So  bauld  a  bairne  as  he  ; 
Cry  of  Grisborne,  na  Allane  Bell, 
Na  Simones  Sones  of  Qutrynsell 

Off  thocht  war  nevir  slie. 

Gisborne  is  a  market  town  in  the  west  riding  of  the  county 
of  York,  on  the  borders  of  Lancashire. 


shales  beeene  sheene,  &  shradds  2  full  fayre,      it  is  merry 
&  leeues  both  Large  &  longe, 


n 

itt  is  merrry  walking  in  the  fayrc  fforrest 
4       to  heare  the  small  birds  singe.3 

1  A  very  curious  Old  Song,  much  more  ary,  1593,  Halliwell.     Shradd  is  a  twig, 
ancient  and  perfect,  than   the   common  cither  from  "  shred,  to  cut  off  the  smaller 
printed  Ballads  of  Robin  Hood.  —  P.  branches  of  a  tree,"  or  "  schrags,  the  clip- 

2  Shale,    a     husk.      The    shales    or  pings  of  live  fences."     Halliwell.  —  F. 
stalkes  of  hempe.     Hollyband's  Diction'  3  songe.  —  P, 

Q2 


228 


GUYE    OF   GISBOKNE. 


Kobin  Hood 
dreams  that 
two  yeomen 


beat  him. 


the  woodweete  sang  &  wold  not  cease 
amongst  the  leaues  a  lyne  ;  1 
r*  *  *  *  * 

"  2&  it  is  by  2  3  wight  yeomen, 
by  deare  god  thai  I  meane  : 

"  me  thought  they  did  mee  beate  &  binde, 

&  tooke  my  bow  mee  froe  : 
If  I  bee  Robin  a-liue  in  this  Lande, 


He  vows 

them,  12          He  be  wrocken  on  both  them  to  we." 


and  orders 
his  men  to 
go  with  him. 


They  all 
start, 


and  soon  see 
one  yeoman, 


"  sweeuens  4  are  swift,  ~M.aster,"  quoiln  Iohnt 

"  as  the  wind  thai  blowes  ore  a  hill ; 
ffor  if  itt  be  neuer  soe  lowde  this  night, 
16          to-morrow  it  may  be  still." 

"  buske  5  yee,  bowne  yee,  my  merry  men  all  ! 

ffor  lohn  shall  goe  w^'th  mee  ; 
for  He  goe  seeke  yond  wight  yeomen 
20         in  greenwood  where  the  bee." 

the  cast 6  on  their  gowne  of  greene ; 7 

a  shooting  gone  are  they 
vntill  they  came  to  the  Merry  greenwood 
24          where  they  had  gladdest  bee  ; 

there  were  the  ware  of  [a]  wight  yeoman  ; 

his  body  Leaned  to  a  tree, 


1  of  lime:  I  would  read '  so  greene.' — P. 

2  As  the  lines  that  follow  are  part  of  a 
Speech  of  Kobin  hood  relating  a  dream: 
there  are  certainly  some  lines  wanting 
and  we  can  no  where  better  fix  the  hiatus 
than  between  the  2<?  &  3?  lines  of  st.  2<* . 
N.B.  In  my  printed  Copy  of  this  song  in 
the  Reliques,  &c.,  Vol.   I.    I   took  the 
Liberty  to  fill  xip  some  of  these  Lacuna, 
&c.,  from  Conjecture,  &c. — P. 

Percy  also  alters   lines  6    7  and  8: 
his  verses  in  the  1st  edition  are — 

The  woodweete  sang,  and  wold  not  cese, 
Sitting  upon  the  spray e, 


Soe  lowde,  he  wakend  Eobin  Hood 
In  the  greenwood  where  he  lay. 

Now  by  faye,  said  jollye  Kobin, 
A  sweaven  I  had  this  night ; 

I  dreamt  me  of  tow  mighty  yemen 
That  fast  with  me  can  fight. — F. 

8  of  2.— P. 

4  i.  e.  dreams. — P. 

5  i.  e.  get  you  ready. — P. 

0  then  inserted  by  Percy. — F. 

7  Two  lines  wanting  at  the  beginning 
of  this  St.,  if  these  2  lines  are  not  rather 
to  be  added  to  the  next  St. — P. 


GUYE    OF   GISBORNE. 


229 


a  sword  &  a  dagger  he  wore  by  his  side, 
28          had  beene  many  a  mans  bane,1 
&  he  was  cladd  in  his  Capull  2  hyde, 
topp,  &  tayle,  and  mayne. 


clad  in  a 
horse's  hide. 


"  stand  you  still,  Master,"  q^oth  litle  lohn, 
32          "  vnder  this  trusty  tree, 

&  I  will  goe  to  yond  wight  yeoman 
to  know  his  meaning  truly e." 


Little  John 
tells  Robin 
to  stop  while 
he  asks  who 
the  man  is. 


"  a,  lohn  !  3  by  me  thou  setts  noe  store, 
36          &  thats  a  ffarley  4  thinge  ; 

how  offt  send  I  my  men  beffore, 
&  tarry  my-selfe  behinde  ?  5 


Robin  Hood 
is  angry  at 
John's 
wanting  to 
keep  him 
back, 


"  it  is  noe  cunning  a  knaue  to  ken, 
40          &  a  man  but  heare  him  speake  ; 

&  itt  were  not  for  bursting  of  my  bowe, 
lohn,  I  wold  thy  head  breake." 


and  threat 
ens  to  break 
Little  John's 
head. 


but  often  words  they  breeden  ball ;  G 
44          thai  parted  Robin  and  lohn ; 
lohn  is  gone  to  Barnsdale, 

the  gates  7  he  knowes  eche  one. 


This  parts 
them,  and 


Little  John 
goes  to 
Barnsdale, 


&  when  hee  came  to  Barnesdale, 

48  great  heauinesse  there  hee  hadd ; 

he  ffound  2  of  his  own  fellowes 

were  slaine  both  in  a  slade,8 


where  he 
finds  two 
mates  slain, 


&  Scarlett  a  ffoote  flyinge  was 
52          ouer  stockes  and  stone, 

for  the  sheriffe  w?'th  7  score  men 
fast  after  him  is  gone. 


and  Scarlett 
flying 


from  the 
Sheriff. 


*  Of  many  a  man  the  bane. — P. 

2  Horse.— P. 

«  Ah  !  John.— P. 

4  wonderous.     Lye. — P. 


5  meaning  that  he  never  did  so. — P. 

6  bale.— P. 

7  passes,  paths,  ridings. — P.  in  Eel. 

8  i.  e.,  a  parting  between  2  Woods. — P. 


230 


GUYE   OF   GISBORNE. 


Little  John 
tries  to  shoot 
the  Sheriff,      56 


"  yett  one  shoote  He  shoote,"  sayes  Litle  lohn ; 

"  with  crist  his  might  &  Mayne 
He  make  yond  fellow  that  flyes  soe  fast 

to  be  both  glad  &  ffaine.  • 


but  his  bow 
breaks. 


lohn  bent  vp  a  good  veiwe  l  bow,2 
60          &  ffetteled  3  him  to  shoote : 

the  bow  was  made  of  a  tender  bonghe, 
&  fell  downe  to  his  footee.4 


[page  263] 


"  woe  worth  thee,  wicked  wood !  "  sayd  litle  lohn, 
64          "  that  ere  thou  grew  on  a  tree  ! 
ffor  5  this  day  thou  art  my  bale, 
my  boote  when  thou  shold  bee  !  " 


and  yet  the         0 
arrow  kills       by 


William  a 
Trent, 


this  shoote  it  was  but  looselye  shott, 

the  arrowe  flew  in  vaine, 
&  6  it  mett  one  of  the  Sherifies  men  : 

good  william  a  Trent  was  slaine. 


(who'd 
better  have 
been  hung). 


it  had  beene  better  7  for  a  william.  Trent 

to  hange  vpon  a  gallowe 
then  for  to  lye  in  the  greenwoode 

there  slaine  with  an  arrowe.8 


But  Little 
John  is 
taken. 


&  it  is  sayd,  when  men  be  mett, 
76         6  9  can  doe  more  then  3  : 
&  they  haue  tane  10  litle  lohn, 
&  bound  him  ffast  to  a  tree. 


1  Query  MS :  the  word  is  partly  pared 
away. — F. 

2  John  bent  up  a  good  yew  bow. — P. 
8  prepared,   addressed    him,   verbum 

Salopiense. — P. 

4  foote.— P. 

5  ffor  now. — P. 

6  or  Yet.— P. 

7  as  good.— P. 


8  Altered  in    the    Beliques,    1st   ed. 
i.  81,  to 

To  have  been  abed  with  sorrowe, 
Than  to  be  that  day  in  the  green  wood 

slade 
To  meet  with  Little  Johns  arrowe. — F. 

9  Fyve.— 7?^. 

10  insert  now. — P. 


GUYE    OF    GISBORNE. 


231 


"  thou  shalt  be  drawen  by  dale  and  downe,"  quoth  and  the 

. ,         ,        .  ff,    ,  Sheriff  vows 

the  Snerilie,1  he  shall  be 

80       "  &  hanged  hye  on  a  hill." 

"  Don't  be 
too  sure," 


"but  thou.  may  ffayle,"  q^oth  litle  lohn, 
•  "  if  itt  be  christs  owne  will." 


ays  Little 
John. 


let  vs  leaue  talking  of  Litle  lohn, 
84       for  hee  is  bound  fast  to  a  tree, 
&  talke  of  Guy  &  Robin  hood 

in  they  2  green  woode  where  they  bee 


Let  us  turn 
to  Guy  and 
Robin. 


how  these  2  yeomen  together  they  mett 
88         vnder  the  leaues  of  Lyne,3 

to  see  what  Marchandise  they  made 
euen  at  that  same  time. 


"  good  morrow,  good  fellow  !  "  quoth  Sir  Guy  ; 
92         "  good  morrow,  good  ffellow  !  "  qwoth  hee  ; 
"  methinkes  by  this  bow  thou  beares  in  thy  hand, 
a  good  archer 4  thou  seems  to  bee.5 


Guy  greets 
Robin 


"  I  am  wilfull  G  of  my  way,"  q^oth  Sir  Guye, 
96         "  &  of  my  morning  tyde." 

"  He  lead  thee  through  the  wood,"  qwoth  Robin, 
"  good  ffellow,  He  be  thy  guide." 


"  I  seeke  an  outlaw,"  qwoth  S/r  Guye, 
100        "  men  call  him  Robin  Hood  ; 

I  had  rather  meet  with  him  vpon  a  day 7 
then  40?  of  golde." 


and  tells  him 
he  seeks  an 
outlaw, 
Robin  Hood. 


1  These  three  words  seem  added  by 
some  explainer. — P. 

2  the.— P. 

8  perhaps  Lime ;  tho'  Line  or  Lyne  is 
more  common  in  these  old  ballads. — P. 


4  An  e  has  been  added  at  the  end. — F. 

5  showldest  bee.— P. 

6  probably  the   same   as  "  wilsome," 
page  357  [of  MS.]  st.  6.— P. 

7  this  day.— P. 


232 


GUYE    OF    GISBOKNE. 


Robin  pro- 

poses  some 

sport. 


"if  you  tow  mett,  itt  wold  be  scene  whether  were 

better 

104        afore  yee  did  part  awaye  ; 
let  vs  some  other  pastime  find, 
good  ffellow,  I  thee  pray.1 


No  doubt,  as 
they  go  on, 
they'll  meet 
Robin  Hood. 


"  let  vs  some  other  masteryes  make, 
108        &  wee  will  walke  in  the  woods  euen, 

wee  may  chance  2  mee[t]  w^th  Robin  Hoode 
att'some  vnsett  steven."  3 


They  make 
pricks  ready 
to  shoot  at. 


they  cutt  them  downe  the 4  summer  shroggs  * 
112        which,  grew  both  vnder  a  Bryar,6 
&  sett  them  3  score  rood  in  twinn7 
to  shoote  the  prickes  full  neare.8 


"leade  on,  good  ffellow,"  sayd  Sir  Guye, 
116        "  lead  9  on,  I  doe  bidd  thee." 

"nay,  by  my  faith,"  quoth  Robin  Hood, 
"  the  leader  thou  shalt  bee." 


1  Percy  alters  this  in  his  Beliques,  i. 
81,  1st  ed.,  to 

Now  come  with  me,  thou  wighty  yeman, 
And  Eobin  thou  soon  shalt  see : 

But  first  let  us  some  pastime  find 
Under  the  greenwood  tree. 

2  to.— P. 

3  See  page  358,  st.  16.— P.     unfixed, 
unexpected  moment.     There  is  a  stroke 
before  the  v  of  steven  in  the  MS. — F. 

4  two.— Eel. 

5  scrog,   a   stunted  shrub:  Jamieson. 
— F. 

6  pronounced  Breer  in  some  parts  of 
England. — P.       Bryar    is    entered    in 
Levin's,  1570,  under  the  words  in  eare. 

7  apart.— F. 

8  y-fere. — Eel.      Threescore  roods   or 
330  yards  must  have  been  a  long  range. 
The    Pricke-wandes    were,    I     suppose, 
willow  wands  or  long  thin  branches  stuck 
in  the  ground  to  shoot  at.     Prickes  seem 


to  have  been  the  long-range  targets, 
butts  the  near. 

Moll.  Out  upon  him,  what  a  suiter 
have  I  got ;  I  am  sorry  you  are  so  bad 
an  Archer,  sir. 

Eare.  Why  Bird,  why  Bird  ? 

Moll.  "Why,  to  shoote  at  Buts,  when 
you  shou'd  use  prick-shafts,  short-shoot 
ing  will  loose  ye  the  game,  I  as  [sure] 
you,  sir. 

Eare.  Her  minde  runnes  sure  upon 

a  Fletcher,  or  a  Bowyer, 

1633,  Eowley.  A  Match  at  Midnight, 
Act  ii.  sc.  1. 

"  Modern  prick  shooting  is  practised  by 
the  Eoyal  Archers  at  Edinburgh,  and 
is  their  favourite,  at  a  small  round  target 
fixed  at  180  yards,"  says  Mr.  Peter  Muir, 
their  Bowmaker.  See  my  note  on  pricks 
in  The  Babees  Boke  $c.  1868,  p.  ci.— F. 

9  i.  e.  begin  to  shoot. — P. 


GUJYE    OF   GISBORNE. 


the  first  good  shoot  that  Robin  ledd, 
120        did  not  shoote  an  inch  the  pricke  l  ffroe. 
Guy  was  an  archer  good  enoughe, 
but  he  cold  neere  shoote  soe. 


233 


Robin  shoots 

first, 

an  inch  from 

the  prick. 


the  2?  shoote  2  Sir  Guy  shott, 
124        he  shott  within  the  garlande  ; 

but  Robin  hoode  shott  it  better  then  hee, 
for  he  cloue  the  good  pricke  wande. 


Guy  next, 
within  the 
garland. 
Robin  then 
cleaves  the 
prick -wand. 


"  gods  blessing  on  thy  heart !  "  sayes  Guye, 
128        "  goode  fiellow,  thy  shooting  is  goode  ; 
for  on  3  thy  hart  be  as  good  as  thy  hands, 
thou  were  better  then  Robin  Hood. 


[page  264] 


"  Bless  your 
heart,  you 
shoot  well," 
says  Guy. 


"  tell  me  thy  name,  good  ffellow,"  q^oth  Guy, 
132        "  vnder  the  leaues  of  Lyne." 

"nay,  by  my  faith,"  q^oth  good  Robin, 
"till  thou  haue  told  me  thine." 


"  Tell  me 
your  name.' 

"Not  till 
you  tell  me 
yours." 


"  I  dwell  by  dale  &  downe,"  q^oth  Guye, 
136        "  &  I  haue  done  many  a  curst  turne ; 
&  he  that  calles  me  by  my  right  name, 
calles  me  Guye  of  good  Gysborne." 


"  Mine  is 
Guye  of 
Gysborne.' 


"  my  dwelling  is  in  the  wood,"  sayes  Robin  ; 
140        "  by  thee  I  set  right  nought ; 

my  name  is  Robin  Hood  of  Barnesdale, 
a  fiellow  thou  has  long  sought." 


"And  mine 
Robin  Hood 
of  Barnes- 
dale." 


he  that  had  neither  beene  a  4  kithe  nor  kin  5 
144        might  haue  seene  a  full  fayre  sight, 
to  see  how  together  these  yeomen  went 
w^th  blades  both  browne  &  bright ; 


It  was  a 
pretty  sight 


fight. 


1  was  not  an  Inch  the  prick. — P. 

2  that  inserted  by  P.— F. 

3  an,  or  and. — P. 


*  a  delend.— P. 

5  neither    acquaintance   nor   relation. 
—P. 


234 


GUYE    OP   GISBORNE. 


Neither 
thinks  of 
flying. 


to  haue  seene  how  these  yeomen  together  foug[ht] 
148        2  howers  of  a  summers  day  : 

itt  was  neither  Guy  nor  Robin  hood 
thai  ffettled  them  to  nye  away. 


But  Robin 
stumbles, 


and  Guy 
hits  him. 


Robin  was  reacheles l  on  a  roote, 
152        &  stumbled  2  at  thai  tyde  ; 

&  Guy  was  quicke  &  nimble  w^th-all, 
&  hitt  him  ore  the  left  side. 


Robin  calls 
on  the 
Virgin, 


"  ah,  deere  Lady  !  "  sayd  Robin  hoode, 
156        "  thou  art  both  Mother  &  may  ! 
I  thinke  it  was  neuer  mans  destinye 
to  dye  before  his  day." 


leaps  up, 


kills  Sir 


Robin  thought  on  our  Lady  deere, 
160        &  soone  leapt  vp  againe  ; 

&  thus  he  came  w^th  an  awkwarde  3  stroke  ; 
good  S*r  Guy  hee  has  slayne. 


he  tooke  S^r  Guys  head  by  the  hayre, 


sticks  his 

head  on  his  „  ,  .     .  , 

bow,  164        &  sticked  itt  on  his  bowes  end ; 


"  thou  hast  beene  tray  tor  all  thy  liffe, 
which  thing  must  haue  an  ende." 


Clashes  his 
face  till  no 
one  can 
know  him, 


Robin  pulled  forth  an  Irish  kniffe, 
168        &  nicked  Sir  Guy  in  the  fface, 

thai  hee  was  neuer  on  4  a  woman  borne 
cold  tell  who  Sir  Guye  was  : 


saies,  "  lye  there,  lye  there,  good  Sir  Guye, 
172        &  w^th  me  be  not  wrothe  ; 

if  thou  haue  had  the  worse  stroakes  at  my  hand, 
thou  shalt  haue  the  better  cloathe." 


1  i.e.  careless. — P. 

2  he  stumbled.— P. 


3  perhaps  backward. — P.. 

4  of  woman. — P. 


GUYE   OF   GISBORNE. 

Robin  did  on  l  his  gowne  of  greeiie, 
176        [on]  Sir  Guye  2  hee  did  it  thro  we  ; 
&  hee  put  on  thai  Capull  hyde 
thai  cladd  him  topp  3  to  toe. 

"  the  4  bowe,  the  4  arrowes,  &  litle  home, 
180        &  5  with  me  now  He  beare  ; 
ffor  now  I  will  goe  to  Barnsdale, 
to  see  how  my  men  doe  ffare." 

Robin  sett  Guyes  home  to  his  mouth ; 
184        a  lowd  blast  in  it  he  did  blow. 

thai  beheard  the  Sheriffe  of  Nottingham 
as  he  leaned  vnder  a  lowe  6  ; 

"  hearken  !  hearken  !  "  sayd  the  Sheriffe, 
188        "I  heard  noe  ty dings  but  good  ; 

for  yonder  I  heare  Sir  Guyes  home  bio  we, 
for  he  hath  slaine  Robin  hoode  : 

"  for  yonder  I  heare  Sir  Guyes  home  blow, 
192        itt  blowes  soe  well  in  tyde, 

for  yonder  comes  thai  wighty  yeoman 
cladd  in  his  capull  hyde. 

"  come  hither,7  thou  good  Sir  Guy  ! 
196        aske  of  mee  what  thou  wilt  haue  !  " 

"He  none  of  thy  gold,"  sayes  Robin  hood, 
nor  He  none  of  itt  haue  8  ; 

"  but  now  I  haue  slaine  the  Master,"  he  sayd,   [page2G5] 
200        let  me  goe  strike  the  knaue  ; 
this  is  all  the  reward  I  aske, 
nor  noe  other  will  I  haue." 


235 


throws  his 
own  green 
coat  on  the 
corpse, 
puts  on  Sir 
Guy's  horse- 
hide, 


and  takes 
his  horn, 


and  blows  it. 


The  Shcrift 
hears  it, 


thinks  Guy 
has  slain 
llobinllood, 


and  promises 
him  what 
ever  re  wan  1 
he  asks. 
Robin  asks 


leave  to  kill 
Little  John. 


Off.— P. 

On  Sir  Guy. — P. 

from  topp. — P. 

thy.— Eel. 

and  delend. — P. 

perhaps  bowe. — P.    hill,  A.-S.  Jdcew. 


come  hither  [repeated]. — P. 

Perhaps 

None  of  it  I  will  hare 

or 
Nor  nothing  else  111  have. — P. 


236 


GUYE   OF   aiSBORNE. 


The  Sheriff 
grants  it. 


"  thou  art  a  Madman,"  said  the  shiriffe, 
204        "  thou  sholdest  haue  had  a  knights  ffee. 
seeing  thy  asking  beene l  soe  Ibadd, 
well  granted  it  shall  be." 


Little  John 

knows 

Robin's 

voice, 

and  thinks 

he  shall  be 

freed. 


but  litle  lohn  heard  his  faster  speake, 
208        well  he  knew  thai  was  his  steuen  2  ; 

"now  shall  I  be  loset,  3"  q-woth  litle  lohn, 
"  with  Christs  might  in  heauen." 


press  on 
them. 


but  Robin  hee  hyed  him  towards  Litle  lohn  ; 
212        hee  thought  hee  wold  loose  him  beliue. 
the  Sheriffe  &  all  his  companye 
fast  after  him  did  driue. 


Robin  orders 
them  back, 


"  stand  abacke  !  stand  abacke  !  "  sayd  Robin; 
216        "  why  draw  you  mee  soe  neere  ? 
itt  was  neuer  the  vse  in  our  countrye 
ones  shrift4  another  shold  heere." 


looses  Little  but  Robin  pulled  forth  an  Irysh  kniffee, 

John, and 

gives  him       220        &  losed  lohn  hand  &  noote. 

Guy's  bow. 

&  gaue  him  Sir  Guyes  bow  in  his  hand, 
&  bade  it  be  his  boote. 


Little  John  5  but  lohn  tooke  Guves  bow  in  his  hand, 

prepares  to 

shoot.  224        his  arrowes  were  rawstye  by  the  roote ; 

the  Sherriffe  saw  litle  lohn  draw  a  bow 
&  ffettle  him  to  shoote  ; 


1  hath  been.— P. 

2  i.  e.  voice. — P. 
8  loosed.— P. 

4  i.  e.  confession. — P. 

5  Then  John  he  took  Guyes  bowe  in  his 

hand, 


His  boltes  and  arrowes  eche  one  : 
"When  the  sheriffe  saw  Little  John  bend 
his  bow. 

He  fettled  him  to  be  gone.  — Eel. 

?  is  rawstye,  1.  224,  rusty.     Bawly  is 
rude;  unskilful.     Halliwell.— F. 


GUYE    OF    GISBORNE. 


237 


towards  his  house  in  Nottingam 
223        he  ffled  full  fast  away, — 
&  soe  did  all  his  companye, 
not  one  behind  did  stay, — 


The  Sheriff 
takes  to 
flight, 


but  he  cold  neither  soe  fast  goe, 
232        nor  away  soe  fast  runn,1 

but  litle  lohn  with  an  arrow  broade 
did  cleaue  his  heart  in  twinn.2 


ffins. 


but  can't  get 
away  from 
Little  John's 
arrow, 
which 
cleaves  his 
heart. 


1  rycle. — EeL  put  your  inverted    commas   too,   as   if 

2  He    shott  him   into   the    '  backe '-       you'd  only  altered  the  one  word  '  backe.' 
syde.— Rel.     Too  bad,  Bishop!  And  to      — F. 


238 


feerriforti  & 

THIS  ballad  is  to  be  found  in  Dryden's  Miscellany  Poems,  in  the 
1727  Collection  of  Old  Ballads^  and  elsewhere. 

The  subject  is  the  well-known  quarrel  between  the  Earls  of 
Hereford  and  Norfolk,2  which  finally  resulted  in  their  banish 
ment  in  1398.  A  full  description  of  the  Lists  of  Coventry  (in 
September,  not  August)  is  given  by  Hall.3  The  ballad's  account 
of  the  origin  of  the  quarrel  is  not  quite  fair.  Hereford  accused 
Norfolk,  not  Norfolk  Hereford,  of  treason.  But  the  ballad  goes 
with  the  winning  side.  Vox  populi  mostly  shouts  in  favour  of 
the  successful.  The  cause  pleases  it  that  "  pleases  the  gods." 

The  ballad  is  evidently  written  by  a  practised  ballad-writer, 
some  time  about  1600  probably.  But  it  may  have  been  founded 
on  some  older  one.  The  subject  is  not  likely  to  have  lain 
uncelebrated  till  late  in  Elizabeth's  reign. 


10WE  noble  dukes  of  great 


i  sing  the  J-UWJbJ  noble  dukes  ol  great  renowne 

noble  Dukes,  that  long  had  liued  in  flame, 

throug  ffatall  envye  were  cast  downe 
4         &  brought  to  sudden  bane : 

Hereford  the  Duke  of  Hereford  was  the  one, 

a  prudent  prince  &  wise, 
gainst  whom  such  mallice  there  was  showen, 
8         which  soone  in  fight  did  rise. 


1  In    the    printed    Collection  of  old  fashions  before  his  time  were  his  own 
allads,   1727,  Vol.  i.  p.  120.  N.  XV.,  fabrication,  though  adopted  as  genuine 
id  in  Dryden's  Misc.  Vol.  6.  382. — P.  by  Gough  and  Sharon  Turner,    Planch!', 

2  See  Shakspere's  Eichard  II. — F.  Hist,  of  Costume,  p.  223. — F. 

3  Hall's  descriptions  of  armour  and 


HEREFFORD  AND  NORFOLKE. 


239 


1-2 


the  Duke  of  Norfolke  most  vntrue  l 

declared  to  the  King, 
"  the  duke  of  Hereford  greatly  grew 

in  hatred  of  eche  thinge 


and  Norfolk. 

Norfolk  de 
nounces 
Hereford 


which  by  his  grace  was  acted  still 

against  both  hye  &  lowe, 
&  how  he  had  a  traiterous  will 
16         his  state  to  oner  thro  we." 


to  the  King 


as  a  traitor. 


the  Duke  of  Hereford  then  in  hast 

was  sent  for  to  the  Kinge, 
&  by  his  lords  in  order  placet 
20         examined  in  eche  thinge  ; 


The  King 
sends  for 
Hereford, 

has  him 
examined, 


which  being  guiltelesse  of  that  crime 

which  was  against  him  layd, 
the  duke  of  Norfolke  at  that  time  2 
24         these  words  vnto  him  sayd  : 


and  he  is 
guiltless. 


Norfolk 


"  how  canst  thou  with  a  shamelcssc  face 

deny  a  truth  soe  stout, 
&  there  before  his  royall  grace 
28         soe  falselye  faced  itt  out  ? 


reproves  him 
for  his 
shameless- 
ness, 


"  did  not  these  treasons  from  thee  passe 

when  wee  together  were, 
how  that  the  King  vnworthye  was 
32         the  royall  crowne  to  weare  ? 


declares 
Hereford  La? 

[page  266]    talked 
treason, 


"  wherfore,  my  gracyous  Lonfe,"  quoth  hee, 

"  &  you,  his  Noble  Peeres, 
to  whom  I  wish  long  lifie  to  bee, 
36         with  many  happy  yeeres, 


1  Only  half  the  u  in  the  MS.— F. 


2  JMS.  time. — F. 


240 

and  avows 


he  is  a 
traitor. 


HEREFFORD   AND    NORFOLKE. 

"  I  doe  pronounce  before  you  all 

the  duke  of  Hereford  here, 
a  traytour  to  our  Noble  Kinge, 
40         as  time  shall  show  itt  clere." 


Hereford 


hurls  back 
his  accusa 
tion  in  his 
face, 


the  Duke  of  Herefford  hearing  that, 

in  mind  was  greeved  much, 
&  did  returne  this  answer  matt, 
44         which  did  Duke  Norfolke  tuche  ; 

"  the  terme  of  Traytor,  trothelesse  Duke, 

in  scorne  &  deepe  disdaine, 
with  matt  deffyance  to  thy  face  l 
48         I  doe  returne  againe  ! 


and  craves 
leave  to  fight 
Norfolk. 


"  &  therfore,  if  it  please  yo^r  grace 

to  grant  me  grace,"  quoth  hee, 
"  to  combatt  with  my  knowen  ffoe 
52         that  hath  accused  mee, 


The  King 
grants  it, 
and  fixes 
Coventry  as 
the  place. 


The  Dukes 

appear 

armed, 


"  I  doe  not  doubt  but  plainlye  proue, 

that  like  a  periured  knight 
hee  hath  most  falslye  sought  my  shame 
56         against  all  truth  &  right." 

the  King  did  grant  their  iust  request, 

&  did  therto  agree, 
att  Couentry  in  August  next 
60         this  combatt  fought  shold  bee. 

the  Dukes  in  barbed  steeds  Ml  stout, 

in  coates  of  steele  most  bright, 
with  speares  in  brest  did  enter  list, 
64         the  combatt  feirce  to  flight 


There  is  a  stroke  between  the  c  and  e  in  the  MS. — F. 


HEREFFORD  AND  NORFOLKE. 


241 


the  King  then  cast  his  warder  downe, 

commanding  them  to  stay  ; 
&  with  his  Lords  some  councell  tooke 
68         to  stint  that  Mortall  ffraye. 

att  lenght  vnto  the  Noble  Duke[s] 

the  King  of  Heralds  came, 
&  vnto  them  with  loftye  speech 
72         this  sentence  did  proclaime  : 

"  w^th  Henery  Bullenbrooke  this  day, 

the  Duke  of  Hereford  here, 
&  Thomas  Mawbray,  Norfolkes  Duke, 
76         soe  valyant  did  apeare, 

"  &  haue  in  honourable  sorfce 

repayred  to  this  place, 
our  noble  King  for  specyall  cause 
80         hath  altered  thus  the  case  : 

"  ffirst,  Henery  Duke  of  Hereford, 

Ere  15  dayes  were  past 
shall  part  this  realme,  on  payne  of  death, 
84         while  10  yeeres  space  doth  last. 

"  &  Thomas,  duke  of  Norfolke,  thou 

thai  hast  begun  this  striffe, — 
&  therfore  noe  good  prone  can  bring, 
88         I  say, — for  terme  of  liffe, 

"  by  iudgment  of  our  souerraine  Lord 

which  now  in  place  doth  stand, 
for  euermore  I  banish  thee 
92         out  off  thy  Natiue  Land, 

"  charging  thee  on  payne  of  death, 

when  15  dayes  are  past, 
thou  neuer  treade  on  English  ground 
96         soe  long  as  liffe  doth  last." 

VOL.   II.  K 


but  the  King 
stops  the 
combat, 


aud  a  Herald 


proclaims 
his  judg 
ment. 


Hereford 


is  banished 
for  ten 
years ; 


Norfolk 


for  life  ; 


and  both 
must  go  in, 
fifteen  days. 


242 


HEREFFORD    AND    NORFOLKE. 


Each  swears 


not  to  go 
where  the 
other  is. 


100 


thus  were  the  sworne  before  the  ~King 
ere  they  did  further  passe, 

the  one  shold  neuer  come  in  place 
wheras  the  other  was. 


then  both  the  dukes  w^th  heaiuy  hart 

were  parted  presentlye, 
the  vncoth  streames  of  froward  chance 
104        in  forraine  lands  to  trye. 


[page  267] 


Norfolk, 
before 
Bailing  off, 


laments  his 
lot. 


the  duke  of  Norfolke  cominge  then 
where  [he]  shold  shipping  take, 
the  bitter  teares  fell  from  his  cheekes, 
108        &  thus  his  moane  did  make  : 


"  May  grief 
burst  my 
heart! 


"  now  let  me  sob  &  sigh  my  fill 

ere  I  from  hence  depart, 
that  inward  panges  with  speed  may  burst 
112        my  sore  afflicted  hart ! 


"  accursed  man,  whose  lothed  liffe 

is  held  soe  much  in  scorne, 
whose  companye  l  is  cleane  despised, 
116        &  left  as  one  forlorne, 


I  bid  adien 
to  my  loved 
land. 


"  Now  take  thy  leaue  &  last  adew 

of  this  thy  country  deare, 
•which  neuer  more  thou  must  behold, 
120        nor  yett  approache  itt  neere  ! 


Would  I  were 
dead, that  I 
might  be 
buried  here, 


"  how  happy  shold  I  count  my  selfe, 

if  death  my  hart  had  torne, 
that  I  might  haue  my  bones  entombed 
124        where  I  was  bredd  and  borne  ; 


1  In  the  MS.  there  is  only  one  stroke  for  the  n. — F. 


HE11EFFOKD    AND    NOHFOLKE. 


243 


128 


"or  that  by  Neptunes  rathfiill  rage, 

I  might  be  prest  to  dye, 
while  that  sweet  Englands  pleasant  bankes 

did  stand  before  mine  eye. 


or  that  I 
might  dio 
now  1 


"  how  sweete  a  sent  hath  Englands  ground 

within  my  sences  now  ! 
how  fayre  vnto  my  outward  sight 
132        seemes  euery  branch  &  bo  we  ! 


How  sweet 
smells  Eng 
land's 
ground  I 


"  the  ffeeleds,  the  flowers,  the  trees  &  stones, 

seeme  such  vnto  my  minde, 
that  in  all  other  countreys  sure, 
136        the  like  I  shall  not  ffiride. 


There  are  no 
such  fields 
abroad. 


"  oh  that  the  sun  l  his  shining  face 
wold  stay  his  steeds  by  strenght ! 
that  this  same  day  might  streched  bee 
140        to  20  yeeres  of  lenght ; 


Oh  that  this 
night  could 


last  twenty 
years, 


"  &  that  they  true  performed  tyde 

their  hasty  course  wold  stay, 
that  ^Eolus  wold  neuer  yeeld 
144        to  bring  me  hence  away  ! 


"  that  by  the  fountaine  of  mine  eyes 

the  fieldes  might  wattered  bee, 
that  I  might  graue  my  greevous  plaints 
148        vpon  eche  springing  tree  ! 


and  that  I 
could  grave 
my  plaints 
on  the  trees ! 


"but  time,  I  see,  w/th  Egles  wings, 

I  see,  doth  flee  away, 
&  dusty  clouds  begin  to  dimm 
152        the  brightnesse  of  the  day ; 


But  Time 


MS.  or  that  the  sliuning. — F. 

B2 


244 


HEREFFORD  AND  NORFOLKE. 


156 


"  tlie  ffatall  Lower  draweth  on, 
the  winds  &  tydes  agree  ; 

&  now,  sweet  England,  ouer  soone 
I  must  depart  from  thee  ! 


the  sailors 
call  me. 


"the  Mariners  haue  hoysed  sayle, 

&  call  to  catch  me  in, 
&  in  [my]  woefull  hart  doe  1  feele 
160        my  torments  to  begin. 


Farewell, 
sweet  Eng 
land, 


"wherfore,  farwell  for  euermore, 

Sweet  England,  vnto  thee  ! 
&  farewell  all  my  freinds  which  I 
164        againe  shall  neuer  see  ! 


I  kiss  thy 
soil 


to  show  how 
I  loved 

thee." 


"  &  England,  heere  I  kisse  the  ground 

vpon  my  bended  knee, 
herby  to  shew  to  all. they  world 
168        how  deere  I  loued  thee." 


Hereford 


and  dies  in 
Venice. 


this  being  2  sayd,  away  he  went 

As  fortune  did  him  guide  ; 
and  att  the  lenght,  with  greefe  of  hart, 
172        in  Venis  3  there  he  dyed. 


[page  268] 


Norfolk 


lives  in 
France, 


is  promoted, 


the  other  duke  in  dolefull  sort 
did  lead  his  liffe  in  ffrance, 
&  at  the  last  the  mighty e  Lord 
176        did  him  ffull  hiye  advance. 


recalled  to 
England 


while 

Richard  IT. 
wars  in 
Ireland, 


the  Lords  of  England  afterwards 

did  send  for  him  againe, 
while  that  King  Richard  4  in  the  warres 
180        in  Ireland  did  remaine  ; 


1  I.— E. 

2  A  de  follows   in 
crossed  out. — F. 


the  MS.,   but    is 


3  or  Veins,  MS.— F. 

4  The  d  has  a  curl  like  s  to  it— F. 


HEREFFORD  AND  NORFOLKE. 


245 


who  thro  1  the  vile  and  great  abuse 

which  through  his  deeds  did  springe, 
deposed  was,  &  then  the  duke 
184        was  truly  crowned  Kinge. 

ffins. 


and  is 

crowned 

King. 


1  MS.  tho.  "The  vile  and  great 
abuse  "  is  dwelt  on  in  the  curious  in 
complete  alliterative  poem  on  the  Depo 
sition  of  Eichard  II.,  edited  by  Mr. 
Thomas  Wright  for  the  Camden  Society 
in  1838  from  the  Cambridge  MS.  LI. 
4.  14.  Take,  among  other  passages,  lines 
88-106,  pp.  4,  5: 

Now,  Eichard  the  redeles,  reweth  on 

3011  self, 
That   lawelesse   leddyn   joure    lyf   and 

3oure  peple  bothe  ; 
Ffor  thoru  the  wyles  and   wronge  and 

wast  in  3oure  tyme, 
36  were  lyghtlich  y-lyste  ffrom  that  3011 


And  ffrom  3oure  willffull  werkis,  3oure 

will  was  chaungid, 
And  rafte  was  3oure  riott,  and  rest,  ffor 

3oure  daie3 
Weren  wikkid  thoru  3oure  cursid  coun- 

ceill,  3oure  karis  weren  newed, 


And  coveitise  hath  crasid  3oure  croune 

ffor  evere. 
Of   a-legeaunce   now    lerneth  a  lesson 

other  tweyne 

Wherby  it  standith  and  stablithe  moste, 
By  dride,  or  be  dyntis,  or  domes  untrewe, 
Or  by  creaunce  of  coyne  ffor  castes  of 

gile ; 
By  pillynge  of  30ure  peple  3oure  prynces 

to  plese, 
Or  that  3oure  wylle  were  wrou3te,  thou3 

wisdom  it  nolde, 
Or  be  tallage  of  3oure  townnes  without 

ony  werre, 

By  rewthles  routus  that  ryffled  evere, 
Be   preysing   of    polaxis   that   no   pete 

hadde, 
Or  be  clette  ffor  thi  dees,  deme  as  thu 

ffyndist, 
Or  be  ledinge  of  lawe  with  love  well 

y-temprid. — F. 


246 


THIS  ballad  is  given  in  the  Reliques  "  (with  corrections  2)  from 
the  Editor's  ancient  folio  MS.  collated  with  two  printed  copies 
in  black  letter :  one  in  the  British  Museum,  the  other  in  the 
Pepys  Collection.  Its  old  title  is  e  A  lamentable  ballad  of  the 
Lady's  fall,'  to  the  tune  of  '  In  Peascod  Time,' "  (to  which  air 
"Chevy  Chace,"  as  Mr.  Chappell  informs  us,  was  sometimes  sung). 
There  is  also  a  copy  of  it  in  the  Douce  Collection.  It  appears  in 
the  1727  Collection  of  Old  Ballads,  and  many  later  Collections. 

It  is  evidently  of  very  much  the  same  date  as  The  Children  in 
the  Wood  (which  is  certainly  as  old  as  1595,  as  its  name  is 
entered  in  the  Stationers'  Eegisters  of  that  year),  and  may 
possibly  be  by  the  same  author.  The  same  facility  of  language 
and  of  rhime,  the  same  power  of  pathos,  the  same  extreme 
simplicity  characterise  both  ballads. 

The  story  is  who  can  say  how  old  ?  Who  was  the  first  frail 
woman?  who  the  first  false  man?  It  touchingly  illustrates 
Groldsmith's  pathetic  lines : 

When  lovely  woman  stoops  to  folly 

And  finds  too  late  that  men  betray, 
"What  charm  can  soothe  her  melancholy? 

What  art  can  wash  her  guilt  away  ? 

The  only  art  her  guilt  to  cover, 

To  hide  her  shame  from  every  eye, 
To  give  repentance  to  her  lover 

And  wring  his  bosom,  is — to  die. 

The  poor  weak  betrayed  lady  had  looked  in  vain  for  the 
fulfilment  of  her  lover's  promises  : 

1  In  y«  printed  Collection  of  Old  Ballads,  1727,  Vol.  i.  p.  244.  N.  xxxiv.— P. 

2  Noticed  in  the  4th  edition  only. — F. 


LADYES   FALL. 


247 


If  any  person  she  had  spied 

Come  riding  o'er  the  plain, 
She  thought  it  was  her  own  true  love  ; 

But  all  her  hopes  were  vain. 

She  gives  birth  to  a  child, 

And  with  one  sigh  which  brake  her  heart 
This  gallant  dame  did  die. 

Then,  at  last,  repentance  is  given  to  her  lover,  and  his  bosom  is 
wrung.  He  kills  himself.  And  so  the  ballad  ends  with  a  word 
of  admonition  and  warning  to  "  dainty  damsels  all." 


MARKE  :  well  my  heauy  dolefull  tale, 

you  loyal  1  louers  all, 
&  heedfully  beare  in  JOUT  brest 
4          a  gallant  Ladyes  fall. 

long  was  shee  wooed  ere  shee  was  woone 

to  lead  a  wedded  liffe, 
but  folly  rought  her  ouerthrowe 
8          before  shee  was  a  wifie  ; 

to  soone,  alas  !  she  gaue  consent, 

&  yeeleded  to  his  will, 
tho  he  protested  to  be  true 
12          &  faithfull  to  her  still. 

shee  felt  her  body  altered  quite, 

her  bright  hue  waxed  pale, 
her  faire  red  cheekes  changed  color  quite,1 
16          her  strenght  began  to  fayle. 

&  soe  2  wt'th  many  a  sorrowffull  sighe, 

this  bewtious  Ladye  Milde 
with  greeued  hart  perceiued  her  selfe 
20          to  be  3  concerned  with  chyld. 


Hear  the  sad 
talc  of  a 
lady's  fall : 


Long  was 
she  wooed, 


but  con 
sented  too 
soon. 


Her  shape 
changed, 


and  she 
found  her 
self  with 
child. 


1  Her  lovelye  cheeks  chang'd  color 
white. — Eel,  1st  ed.  (only  partly  collated. 
-F.) 


2  Soe  that.— Eel. 

3  have.— Eel. 


248 


LADYES    FALL. 


She  hid  it 
from  her 
parents, 


24 


st.ee  kept  it  from  her  parents  sight 
as  close  as  close  might  bee, 

&  soe  put  on  her  silken  gowne 
none  shold  her  swelling  see. 


but  told  her 
lover, 


vnto  her  louer  secretly 

her  greefe  shee  did  bewray, 
&  walking  with  him,  hand  in  hand, 
28          these  words  to  him  did  say  : 


"  behold,"  quoih  shee,  "  a  Ladyes  distresse 

by  loue  brought  to  jour  bowe  ; 
see  how  I  goe  with  chyld  with  thee, 
32          tho  none  thereof  doth  knowe  ! 


prayed  him 
not  to  let 
her  babe  be 
a  bastard, 


"  my  litle  babe  springs  in  my  wombe 

to  heare  it *  fathers  voyce  ; 
o  lett  itt  not  be  a  bastard  called, 
36          sith  I  make  thee  my  choyce  !  2 


to  remember 
his  promises, 


40 


"  thinke  on  thy  former  promises, 
thy  words  &  vowes  eche  one  ! 

remember  with  what  bitter  teares 
to  mee  thou  madest  thy  Moane  ! 


and  marry 

her 

or  kill  her. 


"  convay  me  to  some  secrett  place, 

&  marry  me  with  speede, 
or  with  thy  rapyer  end  my  lifie, 
44          lest  further  shame  proceede  !  " 


Her  lover 
makes  ex 
cuses  : 


"  alacke,  my  derest  loue  !  "  quoth  hee, 

"my  greatest  Toy  on  earthe  ! 
which  way  shold  I  conuay  you  hence 
48          to  scape  3  a  sudden  death  ? 


1  It  preceded  its  as  the  gen.  neuter  of 
he.— F.     its.— Eel. 


2  Eel.  inserts  four  lines  here. — F. 

3  without.— Eel 


LADYES    FALL. 


249 


"your  freinds  are  all  of  hye  degree, 

&  I  of  meane  estate  ; 
ffull  hard  itt  is  to  gett  you  forthe 
52          out  of  yo^r  ffathers  gate." 


[page  269] 


"  dread  not  your  liffe  to  saue  yoz^r  fame  ! 

for  if  you  taken  bee, 
my  selfe  will  step  betweene  the  sword 
56          to  take  the  harme  of  thee  ; 


how  can  he 
get  her  away 
from  her 
home  ? 


She  says 


she  will  save 
him  from 
harm, 


"  soe  may  you  l  scape  dishonor  quite. 

if  soe  you  2  shold  be  slaine, 
what  cold  they  say,  but  that  true  loue 
60          had  wrought  a  Ladyes  paine  3  ? 


"  but  feare  not  any  further  harme  ; 

my  selfe  will  soe  devise, 

I  will  safely e  ryd4  with  thee 

6  vnknowen  of  Morttall  Eyes. 


and  will 
come  to  him 


disguised  like  some  pretty  page 

lie  meete  thee  in  the  darke, 
&  all  alone  lie  come  to  thee 
68          hard  by  my  ffathers  parke." 


disguised  as 
a  page. 


"  &  there,"  qwoth  hee,  "  He  meete  my  deere- 

if  god  doe  lend  me  liffe — 
on  this  day  month  without  all  fayle ; 
72          lie  make  thee  then  my  wiffe." 


He  agrees  to 
meet  her 
that  day 
month. 


&  with  a  sweet  &  louing  kisse 

they  parted  presentlye, 
&  att  their  portinge  brinish5  teares 
76        stoode  in  eche  others  eye. 


They  kiss 
and  part. 


»  shall  I.— Eel. 

2  ?  L— F.    and  if  I.— Eel. 

3  bane.— P.  and  EeL 


*  ryde  away. — Ed. 

5  ?  MS. ;  perhaps  it  is  lainish. — F. 


250 


LADYES   FALL. 


On  the  day 

fixed 

the  lady  is 

ready, 


but  her  lover 
never  comes. 


She  weeps, 


reproaches 
her  false 
lover, 


and  wishes 
she  had 
never 
trusted  him. 


Grieving,she 
goes  home, 


att  lenght  the  wished  day  was  come 

wherin  l  this  lonely  Mayd 
w^th  longing  eyes  &  strange  attire 
80         for  her  true  loner  2  stayd. 

if  any  person  shee  had  spyed  3 
came  ryding  ore  the  plaine, 
shee  thought 4  itt  was  her  owne  true  loue ; 
84          but  all  her  hopes  was  vaine  ! 

then  did  shee  weepe,  &  soer  bewayle 

her  most  vnhappy  fate  ; 
then  did  shee  speake  these  wofull  words 
88          when  succourles  shee  sate : 

"  0  ffalse,  fforsworne,  fiaithelesse  man  ! 

disloyall  in  thy  loue  ! 
hast  thou  fforgott  thy  promise  past, 
92          &  wilt  thou  periured  prooue  ? 

"  &  hast  thou  now  fforsaken  mee 
in  this  my  greate  distresse, 


96 


to  end  my  dayes  in  heauinesse  5 
winch  well  thou  might 6  redresse  ? 


"  woe  worth  7  the  time  I  did  beleeue  8 

that  mattering  toung  of  thine  ! 

wold  god  that  I  had  neuer  seene 

100        the  teares  of  thy  false  eyen  !  " 

soe  that  with  many  a  grieuous  groane  9 

homewards  shee  went  amaine. 
noe  rest  came  in  her  waterye  eyes, 
104        shee  found  10  such  priuy  payne. 


On  which. — Eel. 

?  MS.  loves.— F. 

When  any  person  she  espyed. — Eel. 

hoped.— Eel. 

open  shame. — Eel. 

thou  mightst  well. — Eel. 


7  be  to ;  A.-S.  weorthan,  to  become,  be. 
— F. 

8  I  e'er  believ'd.— Eel. 

9  sorrowful  sigh, — Eel. 
10  felt.— Eel. 


LADYES    FALL. 


251 


108 


in  trauell  strong  shee  fell  thai  night 
with  many  a  bitter  thraw  1 : — 

what  woefull  paines  shee  felt  that  night  2 
doth  echo  good  woman  knowe  !  — 


is  taken  with 

childbirth 

pangs, 


shee  called  vp  her  waiting  mayds 

who  lay  att  her  bedds  feete,3 
and  musing  at  her  great  4  woe 
112        began  full  fast  to  weepe. 


calls  np  her 
maids, 


"weepe  nott,"  shee  sayth,  "  but  shutt  the  dores 

&  windowes  all  about ; 
let  none  bewray  my  wretched  state, 
116        but  keepe  all  persons  out !  " 

"  0  Mistrus  !  call  yowr  mother  here  ; 

of  women  you  haue  neede  ; 
&  to  some  skilfull  rnidwiffe  helpe 
120        the  better  may  you  speed." 


has  the 
doors  shut, 


and  bids 
them  keep 
out  every 
one. 


The  maids 
urge  her  to 


have  a  mid 
wife. 


"  call  not  my  mother  for  thy  liffe, 

nor  ffeitch  noe  woman  here  ! 
The  midwiffes  helpe  comes  all  to  late ; 
124        my  death  I  doe  not  feare." 


[page  270] 


She  refuses 


•with  that  the  babe  sprang  from  her  wombe, 

noe  creature  being  by,5 
&  with  one  sighe  which  brake  her  hart 
128        this  gallant  dame  did  dye. 


gives  birth 
to  a  babe, 


and  dies. 


the  litle  louely  infant  younge, 

the  pretty  smiling  babe,6 
resigned  itt  new  receiued  berath 
132        to  him  thjit  had  it  made. 


Her  babe 
dies  too. 


1  throwe.— Eel 

2  then  did  fee}.— Eel, 

8  A  curl  at  the  end  like  another  e.- 


-F. 


4  Who  musing  at  her  mistress. — Eel. 

8  nye.—Eel. 

6  The  mother  being  dead. — Bel, 


252 


LADYES    FALL. 


Her  lover 
comes,  and 


kills  himself. 


next  morning  came  her  owne  true  lone 

affrighted  w^'th  this  newes, 
&  he  for  sorrow  slew  himselfe, 
136        whom  eche  one  did  accuse. 


Mother  and 
babe  are 
buried 
together. 


the  Mother  w^th  her  new  borne  babe 

were  laide  both  in  one  graue ; 
their  parents,  ouerworne  l  w^th  woe, 
140        noe  loy  thai  they  2  cold  haue. 


Damsels! 
ware  flat 
tering 
words  I 


144 


take  [heed]  you  dayntye  damsells  all ; 

of  fflattering  words  beware  ; 
&  to  the  honor  of  jour  name 

haue  you  a  specyall  care.3 


ffins. 


1  overcome. — Bel. 

2  joy  thenceforth. — Bel. 
8  The  Beliques  add : 


Too  true,  alas !  this  story  is, 

As  many  one  can  tell. 
By  others  harmes  learne  to  be  wise, 

And  you  shall  do  full  well. 


253 


asurfemjjam  betrapi  :  bp  Sanfeter*1 

IN  the  late  autumn  of  1483,  the  nobles  who  had  previously 
determined  to  put  an  end  to  the  usurpation  of  Richard  the 
Third,  and  who  had  lately  heard  of  the  murder  of  the  young 
Princes,  fixed  on  Henry  of  Richmond  for  their  king.  About  the 
middle  of  October  the  Marquess  of  Dorset  proclaimed  him  at 
Exeter.  Men  declared  for  him  in  Wiltshire,  in  Kent,  in 
Berkshire.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham  made  a  rising  at  Brecon. 
But  the  conspiracy  failed.  Richard  was  on  the  alert ;  Henry 
could  not  land  ;  the  insurgents  could  not  combine.  From  Brecon 
the  Duke  (t  marched  through  the  forest  of  Deane  to  the  Severn ; 
but  the  bridges  were  broken  down,  and  the  river  was  so  swoln 
that  the  fords  had  become  impassable.  He  turned  back  to 
Weobley,  the  seat  of  the  lord  Ferrers ;  but  the  Welshmen  who 
had  followed  him  disbanded ;  and  the  news  of  their  desertion 
induced  the  other  bodies  of  insurgents  to  provide  for  their  own 
safety.  Thus  the  King  triumphed  without  drawing  the  sword. 
Weobley  was  narrowly  watched  on  the  one  side  by  Sir  Humphrey 
Stafford,  on  the  other  by  the  clan  of  the  Vaughans,  who  for 
their  reward  had  received  a  promise  of  the  plunder  of  Brecon. 
Morton  effected  his  escape  in  disguise  to  the  isle  of  Ely,  and 
thence  passed  to  the  coast  of  Flanders;  the  Duke,  in  a  similar 
dress,  reached  the  hut  of  Banister,  one  of  his  servants  in 
Shropshire,  where  he  ivas  betrayed  by  the  perfidy  of  his  host.  If 
he  hoped  for  pardon  on  the  merit  of  his  former  services,  he  had 

1  There  is  another  Song  on  this  Subject  in  the  printed  Collect/on   12"?°   1738, 
Vol.  3*  p.  38.  N.  5.— P. 


254  BUCKINGAM   BETRAYD   BY  BANISTER. 

mistaken  the  character  of  Eichard.  That  prince  had  already 
reached  Salisbury  with  his  army ;  he  refused  to  see  the  prisoner, 
and  ordered  his  head  to  be  immediately  struck  off  in  the  market 
place."  (Lingard). 

There  is  another  ballad  on  this  same  subject  given  in  the 
Collection  of  Old  Ballads,  vol.  iii.  1727,  entitled  "The  Life 
and  Death  of  the  Great  Duke  of  Buckingham,  who  came  to  an 
untimely  End,  for  consenting  to  the  deposing  of  the  two  gallant 
young  Princes,  King  Edward  the  Fourth's  children.  To  the 
tune  of  Shore's  Wife."  In  point  of  style  this  is  of  much  the 
same  date  with  that  here  given  from  the  Folio.  It  is  the  pro 
duction  of  a  thorough-bred  ballad-writer,  viz.  Kobert  Johnson, 
and  included  in  his  Crown  Garland  of  Golden  Roses.  It  ad 
ministers  political  justice  in  the  same  uncompromising  manner  : 

Thus  Banister  was  forc'd  to  beg 
And  crave  for  Food  with  Cap  and  Leg ; 
But  none  on  him  would  Bread  bestow, 
That  to  his  Master  prov'd  a  Foe. 

Thus  wandring  in  this  poor  Estate, 
Eepenting  his  misdeeds  too  late, 
Till  starved  he  gave  up  his  Breath, 
By  no  man  pitied  at  his  Death. 

To  woful  End  his  Children  came, 
Sore  punish'd  for  their  Father's  shame ; 
Within  a  channel  one  was  drown'd 
Where  water  scarce  could  hide  the  ground. 

Another  by  the  Powers  divine 
Was  strangely  eaten  up  of  swine ; 
The  last  a  woful  ending  makes 
By  strangling  in  an  empty  Jakes. 

A  third  ballad,  entitled  "  A  most  sorrowful  Song,  setting  forth 
the  miserable  end  of  Banister,  who  betrayed  the  Duke  of  Buck 
ingham,  his  Lord  and  Master,"  is  in  the  Pepys  Collection,  vol.  i. 
p.  64,  and  reprinted  in  Evans's  Old  Ballads,  vol.  iii.  p.  23,  8vo, 
1810.  It  begins  thus  :— 


BUCKINGAM   BETRAYD   BY   BANISTEE. 


255 


If  ever  wight  had  cause  to  rue 
A  wretched  deed,  vile  and  untrue, 
Then  Banister  with  shame  may  sing, 
Who  sold  his  life  that  loved  him. 

Perhaps  all  three  ballads  are  founded  on  some  common  older 
original. 


±.  OU:  Barons  bold,  ma[r]ke  1  and  behold 

the  thinge  thai  I  will  rite  2  ; 
a  story  strange  &  yett  most  true 
4         I  purpose  to  Endite.3 


A  strange 
true  tale  I 
tell. 


ffor  the  Noble  Peere  while  he  liued  heere, 

the  duke  of  Buckingam, 
he  fflourisht  in  King  Edwards  time, 
8         the  ^  King  of  thai  name. 

in  his  service  there  he  kept  a  man 

of  meane  &  low  degree, 
whom  he  brought  vp  then  of  a  chyld 
12         from  basenesse  to  dignitye  ; 

he  gaue  him  lands  &  liuings  good 

wherto  he  was  noe  heyre, 
&  then  4  mached  him  to  a  gallant  dame 
16         as  rich  as  shee  was  fay  re. 

it  came  to  passe  in  tract  of  time 

his  wealth  did  soe  excell, 
his  riches  did  surpasse  them  all 
20         thai  in  thai  shire  did  dwell. 


The  Duke  of 
Buckingham 


has  a  servant 


whom  he 
enriches, 


and  marries 
to  a  gallant 
dame, 


so  that  the 
man  is 
very 
wealthy  ; 


who  was  soe  braue  as  Banister  ? 

or  who  durst  with  him  contend  ? 
w/a'ch  5  wold  not  be  desirous  still 
24         to  be  his  daylye  freind  ? 


none  dares 
strive  with 
Banister. 


1  mark.— P.  2  write.— P. 

8  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 

4  This  and  19  other  words  in  different 


places  are  marked  in  red  brackets,  for 
omission. — 7. 
5  who.— P. 


256 


BUCKINGAM   BETRAYD   BY    BANISTER. 


28 


for  then  l  it  came  to  passe ;  more  woe,  alas  ! 

for2  sorrowes  then  began; 
for  why,  the  "Master  was  constraind  3 

to  seeke  succour  of  his  man. 


Richard  III. 


murders 
the  princes ; 


Buckingham 
raises  a  host 
to  avenge 
them; 


but  his  men 
flee  from 
Richard's 
army, 


and  he  flees 
to  Banister 


to  hide  him. 


then  Richard  the  3d.  swaying  the  sword, 

ciyed  himselfe  a  kinge,4 
murthered  2  princes  in  their  bedds, 
32  which  deede  great  striffe  did  bringe. 

&  then  the  duke  of  Buckingam, 

hating  this  bloody  deede, 
against  the  tyrant  raysed  an  Oaste 
36  of  armed  men  indeed. 

&  when  ~King  Richard  of  this  hard  tell, 

a  mightye  Ost  he  sent 
against  the  duke  of  Buckingam, 
40  his  purpose  to  prevent. 

&  when  the  dukes  people  of  this  heard  tell, 

ffeare  ffilled  their  hearts  eche  one  ; 
many  of  his  souldiers  fledd  by  night, 
44  and  left  him  one  by  one. 

in  extreme  need  the  Duke  tooke  a  steede,5 

&  posted  night  and  day 

towards  Banister  his  man, 

48  in  secrett  there  to  stay. 

"  0  Banister,  Sweet  Banister  ! 

pitty  thow  my  cause,"  sayes  hee, 
"  &  hyde  me  from  mine6  Enemyes 
52  that  here  accuseth7  mee." 


[page  27 r 


1  Now  it. — P. 

2  such.— P. 

8  The  ~M.T.    was  constrained  to 
-P. 
4  Himself  proclaimed  king. — P. 


5  Part  of  the  line  pared  off  the  MS 
— F. 

6  One  stroke  too  few  in  the  MS.— F. 

7  persueth  (in  red  ink:  by  Percy  in 
his  late  hand.—  F.) 


BUCKINGAM    BETRAYD    BY   BANISTER. 


257 


56 


"  0,  you  be  welcome,  my  Lo?rZ !  "  hee  sayes, 

"  JOUT  grace  is  welcome  here  ! 
&  as  my  liffe  He  "keepe  you  safe, 

although  it  cost  me  deere !  " 


Banister 


vows  to  keep 
him  safe, 


"  be  true,  sweete  Banister  !  "  sayes  hee, 

0  sweete  Banister,  be  true  !  " 
"  christs  curse,"  he  sayd,  "  on  me  &  mine 
60  if  euer  I  proue  ffalse  to  you  ! 

then  the  Duke  cast  of  his  veluett  sute, 

his  chaine  of  gold  likwise, 
&  soe  he  did  his  veluett  capp, 
64  to  blind  the  peoples  eyes  ; 


"  Christ's 
curse  on 
me  if  I  be 
false ! " 


Buckingham 
takes  oft'  his 
velvet 
clothes, 


a  lethern  lerkyn  1  on  his  backe, 
&  lethern  slopps  2  alsoe, 

a  heidging  bill  vpon  his  backe, 
&  soe  into  the  woods  did  goe  ! 


dresses  as  a 
woodman, 


?2 


an  old  felt  hat  vppon  his  head, 

wi'th  20  holes  therin  ; 
&  soe  in  labor  he  spent  the  time, 

as  tho  some  drudge  he  had  beene. 


and  works 
away 


76 


&  there  he  liued  long  vnknowen, 
&  still  vnknowne  might  bee, 

till  Banister  for  hope  of  gaine 
betrayd  him  ludaslye. 


in  safety. 


80 


for  a  proclamation  there  was  made, 
1  whosoeuer  then  cold  bringe 

newes  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingam 
to  Richard  then  our  Kinge, 


1  Languedoc  jhergaon,  an  over-coat; 
Fr.  Jargeot,  Jargot,  a  kind  of  course 
garment  worne  by  countrey  people.  Cot- 

VOL.  TT. 


But  Richard 


grave  ;  in  Wedgwood. — F. 

2  slopps,   A   kind   of  open   breeches, 
trousers.     Johnson. — P. 


258 


BUCKINGAM   BETRAYD  BY   BANISTEK, 


offers  1000 
marks 

and  knight 
hood,  for 
news  of 
Bucking- 


Banister 
betrays  his 
master. 


84 


*  a  1000  markes  shalbe  his  ffee 
of  gold  &  silver  bright, 

&  then  be  preferred  by  his  grace, 
&  made  a  worthy  knight.' 


&  when  Banister  of  thai  heard  tell, 

straight  to  the  court  sent  hee, 
&  soe  betrayd  his  Master  good 
88         for  lucre  of  thai  ffee. 


Buckingham 
is  seized. 


a  herald  of  armes  there  was  sent, 

&  men  wiih  weapons  good, 
who  did  attach  this  noble  Duke 
92         where  he  was  labouring  in  the  wood. 


He  re 
proaches 
Banister, 


96 


"  Ah,  ffalse  Banister  !  a,  wreched  man  ! 

Ah,  Caitiffe  !  "  then  sayes  hee  ; 
"  haue  I  maintained  thy  poore  estate 

to  deale  thus  ludaslye  ? 


"  alas  thai  euer  I  beleeued 

thai  mattering  tounge  of  thine  ! 
woe  worth  the  time  thai  euer  I  see 
100         thai  false  Bodye  of  thine  !  "  , 


but  is  be 
headed  at 
Salisbury. 


then  {Fraught  w^th  feare  &  many  a  teare, 

w^th  sorrowes  almost  dead, 
this  noble  Duke  of  Buckingam 
104         att  Salsbury  l  lost  his  head. 


Banister 


is  cast  into 
prison, 


then  Banister  went  to  the  court, 

hoping  this  gold  to  haue, 
but  straight  in  prison  hee  was  cast, 
108         &  hard  his  liffe  to2  saue. 


1  query  Shrewsbury. — P. 


2  hard  his  life  could. — P. 


BUCKINGAM   BETKAYD   BY   BANISTER.  259 

small  ffreinds  he  found  in  his  distresse, 

nor  any  comfort  in  his  need, 

but  euery  man  reuiled  him  reviled  by 

112         [for]  this  1  his  trecherous  deede. 


&  then,  according  to  his  wishe,  and  Christ's 

curse  falls 

gods  ludgments  did  on  him  fall  ;  on  him : 

his  children  were  consumed  quite, 
1 16         his  goods  were  wasted  all  ; 

[page  272] 

ffor  one  of  his  sones  for  greeffe  Starke  madd  did  fall ;  2   one  son 

turns  mad, 

the  other  ffor  sorrow  drowned  was  the  other  « 

drowned. 

w/thin  a  shallow  runing  streame 
120         where  euery  man  might  passe. 


his  daugter  right  of  bewtye  bright,  His  daugh- 

to  such  lewde  liffe  did  ffall  a  strumpet. 

that  shee  dyed  in  great  miserye  ; 
124         &  thus  they  were  wasted  all. 


Old  Banister  liued  long  in  shame,  He  lives  in 

&  att  the  lenght  did  dye  ;  Seasme  and 
&  thus  they  Lord  did  plague  them  all 
128         ffor  this  his  trecherye. 

now  god  blesse  our  king  &  councell  graue,3  God  send 

in  goodness  still  to  proceed ; 

&  send  euery  4  distressed  man  a11  in  need 

J  a  better 

132         a  better  ffreind  att  need  !  ffins.  friend! 


1  for  this.     Qu.— P.  s  Our  k?    G?    bless  And  grant  hia 

2  stark  mad  did  fall.— P.    This  line  is  grace. — P. 
made  two   in   the   MS.     Starke  begins  4  to  each. — P. 
p.  272.— F. 


s  2 


260 


THIS  ballad  is  printed  in  the  Reliques,  vol.  ii.  pp.  198-200,  under 
the  title  of  «  The  Murder  of  the  King  of  Scots."  Percy's  Intro 
duction,  p.  1 97,  is  as  follows : — "  The  catastrophe  of  Henry  Stewart, 
lord  Darnley,  the  unfortunate  husband  of  Mary  Q.  of  Scots,  is 
the  subject  of  this  ballad.  It  is  here  related  in  that  partial  im 
perfect  manner,  in  which  such  an  event  would  naturally  strike 
the  subjects  of  another  kingdom ;  of  which  he  was  a  native. 
Henry  appears  to  have  been  a  vain  capricious  worthless  young 
man,  of  weak  understanding,  and  dissolute  morals.  But  the 
beauty  of  his  person,  and  the  inexperience  of  his  youth,  would 
dispose  mankind  to  treat  him  with  an  indulgence,  which  the 
cruelty  of  his  murder  would  afterwards  convert  into  the  most 
tender  pity  and  regret :  and  then  imagination  would  not  fail 
to  adorn  his  memory  with  all  those  virtues,  he  ought  to  have 
possessed.  This  will  account  for  the  extravagant  elogium  be 
stowed  upon  him  in  the  first  stanza,  &c. 

"  Henry  lord  Darnley,  was  eldest  son  of  the  earl  of  Lennox, 
by  the  lady  Margaret  Douglas,  niece  of  Henry  VIII.  and 
daughter  of  Margaret  queen  of  Scotland  by  the  earl  of  Angus, 
whom  that  princess  married  after  the  death  of  James  IV. — 
Darnley,  who  had  been  born  and  educated  in  England,  was  but 
in  his  21st  year,  when  he  was  married,  Feb.  9,  1567-8. 
This  crime  was  perpetrated  by  the  E.  of  Both  well,  not  out  oi 
respect  to  the  memory  of  David  Riccio,  but  in  order  to  pave  the 
way  for  his  own  marriage  with  the  queen. 

1  On  the  Murther  of  David  Eiccio  and  of  the  king  of  Scotts.  Written  while  tht 
Queen  of  Scotts  was  in  England. — P. 


EARLE    LODWELL.  261 

"  This  ballad  (printed  1  from  the  Editor's  folio  MS.)  seems  to 
have  been  written  soon  after  Mary's  escape  into  England  in 
1568,  see  v.  65. — It  will  be  remembered  at  v.  5,  that  this  princess 
was  Q.  dowager  of  France,  having  been  first  married  to 
Francis  II,  who  died  Dec.  4,  1560." 


Woe  to  yon, 

Scotland, 


WOE:  worth  thee,  woe  worth  thee,  false  Scottlande ! 

ffor  thou  hast  euer  wrought  by  a  2  sleight ;  you  ve 

for  2  the  worthyest  Prince  that  euer  was  borne,  best  ,,r 

Princes ! 

4        you  hanged  vnder  a  cloud  by  night ! 

the  queene  of  ffrance  a  letter  wrote,  Queen  Maty 

bade  him 

&  sealed  itt  3  w/th  hart  and  ringe  ;  come  and 

marry  her ; 

&  bade  him  come  Scottland  within, 
8         &  shee  wold  many  him 2  &  crowne  him  Utiing. 

to  be  a  King,  itt  2  is  a  pleasant  thing  ; 

to  bee  4  a  Prince  viito  a  Peere ; 
but  you  haue  heard,  &  so  haue  I  too,2 
12        a  man  may  well  by  5  gold  to  deere. 


but  she  had 
an  insoler 

Chamber- 


was  an  Italy  an  in  that  place, 

was  as  welbeloved  as  euer  was  hee  ;  au  insolc»t 

Lord  David  G  was  his  name,  lain' llizzio' 

16        chamberlaine  7  vnto  the  Queene  was  hee. 

ffor  8  if  the  King  had  risen  forth  2  of  his  place, 

he  wold  haue  sitt9  him  downe  in  the  cheare,10 
&  tho  itt 1 1  beseemed  him  not  soe  well, 
20        altho  the  King  had  beene  12  present  there. 

1  So   in   2nd   and    3rd  editions   too  :  7  Lord  Chamberl?  . — P. 
"  printed  with  a  few  corrections,"  4th  ed.  8  from. — P. 

-_ F.  9  sate.— R.I. 

2  Eel.  omits  these.— F.     4th  and  2nd          10  i'  th'  chaire. — Eel.    in  the  cheare.— 
and  3rd  editions  restore  too,  1.  11.  £th  ed. 

s  it. — Eel.     itt.— 4tk  ed.  "  although   it.—Rel.    And  tho  itt. — 

<  be.— Eel.     bee.— 4^  ed.  4M  cd. 

»  buy. — p.  ™  And    tho   ....  were.— P.       Ed. 

6  And  Dav'.1  E-zzio — qu.  David  Rizzio.       Although  .  .  had  biene. — ±th  cd. 

—P.*  

*  And  David  Riccio.— Rel.    Lord  David.— Wi  ed. 


262 


EARLE   BODWELL. 


and  some 
Scotch  lords 


stabbed  him. 


some  lords  in  Scottland  waxed  wonderous  l  wroth, 

&  quarrelld  w^'th  him  for  the  nonce  2  : 
I  shall  you  tell  3  how  itt  beffell ; 
24        12  daggers  were  in  him  all l  att  once. 


The  Queen 
was  wroth, 


when  this  queene  see  the  4  Chamberlaine  was  l  slaine, 

for  him  her  5  cheeks  shee  did  weete, 
&  made  a  vow  for  a  12  month  &  a  day  6 
28        the  ILing  &  shee  7  wold  not  come  in  one  sheete. 


and  other 
Lords 


vowed  to 
kill  the 
King. 


then  some  of  the  Lorc?s  of  Scottland  8  waxed  wrothe, 

&  made  their  vow  9  vehemently e, 
'  for  death  of  the  qneenes  10  Chamberlaine  n 
32        the  ~King  himselfe  he  shall  dye.'  12 


they  strowed  his  chamber  oner  w^th  gunpowder,13 

&  layd  greene  rushes  in  his  way  ; 
ffor  the  traitors  thought  that  u  night 
36        the  15  worthy  king  for  to  betray.16 


They  set 
fire  to  his 
bedroom, 


to  bedd  the  worthy  "King  made  17  him  bowne  ;  18 

to  take  his  rest,  that 19  was  his  desire  ; 
he  was  noe  sooner  cast  on  sleepee,20 
40        but  his  chamber  was  on  a  biasing  fyer.21 


he  jumped 
out  of 
window, 


vp  he  lope,  &  a  glasse  22  window  broke  ; 
he 23  had  30  foote  for  to  ffall. 


1  Eel.  omits  these. — F. 

2  ?  MS.  noncett,  with  tt  blotted  out  — 
F.     nonce. — Eel. 

3  And   I   shall    tell.— Ed.       4th  ed. 
omits  And. 

4  the  queen  she  saw  her. — Ed.     4th 
ed.  omits  she,  and  restores  was. 

5  [her]  fair.— P. 

6  year  &  a  day. — P. 

7  shee'd  ne'er. — P. 

8  lords  they. — Eel. 

9  [vow]  now. — P. 

10  That  for   the   death   of    the.— Eel. 
For  the  death  of  the  queenes. — 4th  ed. 


11  Queen's  Lo.  Ch?  .—P. 

12  How  he,  the  king  himself  sM  dye. 
—P.      and.— Ed.     The   king   himselfe 
how  he  shall  dye. — 4th  ed. 

13  with    Gunpowd*     they    strew?    his 
room. — P. 

14  very.— P.  15  tla.is.-Sel. 

16  betraye.— Eel     betray.— 4th  cd. 

17  the  k?  he  made— P. 

18  ready,  paratus.  Lye. — P. 

19  omitted. — Bel. 

20  sleepe.— Bel. 

21  it  was  all  on  fire. — P. 

22  and  the.— Bel.  23  And.— P. 


EAKLE   BODWELL. 


263 


~Lord  Bodwell  kept  a  priuy  wach 
44        vnderneath  1  his  castle  wall. 

"who  haue  wee  2  heere  ?  "  sayd  Lore?  Bodwell ; 
"  answer  me,  now  I  doe  call."  3 


and  was 
caught  by 
Lord 
Both  well, 


Henery  the  81.'1  my  vnckle  was  ; 
48        some  pitty  show  for  his  sweet  sake  !  4 
"  Ah,  Lord  Bodwell !  I  know  thee  well ; 
some  pitty  on  me  I  pray  thee  take  !  " 


whom  he 
prayed  for 
mercy. 


"  He  5  pitty  thee  as  much,"  he  sayd, 
52        "  &  as  much  favor  6  He  show  to  thee 
As  thou  had  on  the  Queenes  Chamberlaine 
that  day  thou  deemedst  7  him  to  dye.8  " 


[page  273] 


But  Both- 
well  would 
have  none, 


through  halls  &  towers  this  9  JZing  they  Ledd, 
56        through  castles  &  towers  lo  that  were  hye,11 
through  an  arbor  into  an  orchard, 

&  there  hanged  him  in  a  peare  tree.12 


and  hanged 
him  on  a 
pear-tree. 


when  the  goue-raor  of  Scottland  he  l3  heard  tell 13 
60        that 14  the  worthye  king  he  13  was  slaine, 
he  hath  banished  15  the  Queene  soe  bitterlye 
that  in  Scottland  shee  dare  not  remaine  ; 


The  Go 
vernor 
cursed  Mary, 


1  all  und*    &c. — -P.     All  underneath. 
— Eel.     Underneath  his. — ±th  cd. 

2  we.— Eel.     wee.— 4th  cd. 

3  Now  answer  me  that  I  may  know. 
—Eel. 

4  For    his    sweete    sake    some   pitty 
show. — Eel. 

The  next  two  lines  Percy  has  altered 
into 

Who  have  we  here  ?  lord  Bodwell  sayd, 
Now  answer  me  when  I  doe  speake. — F. 

5  I'll.— Eel. 

6  favour. — Eel.     favor. — 4tk  ed. 


7  i.  e.   doomedst— deem,    est    opinari, 
censere,  judicare.      Jun. — P.      1.  51  is 
partly  pared  off  the  MS.— F. 

8  dye. — Eel.       die, — with     the    note 
"  Pronounced  after  the  northern  manner 
dee  "  in  edl  2,  3,  4. 

9  the.— P. 

10  thro'  towers  &  castles,  &c. — P. 

11  nye.—Eel. 

12  There   on   a  peare- tree  hangd  him 
hye.— Eel. 

13  omitted.— 7?^.         H  how  that— P. 
15  He  persued. — Eel.     ?  banish  =  ban, 

curse. — F. 


264 


EAELE    BODWELL. 


and  she  fled 
to  England, 

•where  she 
now  is. 


but  shee  is  ffled  into  Merry  England, 
64        &  Scottland  to  aside  hath  laine  ;  * 

&  through  the  Queene  of  Englands  good  2  grace 
now  in  England  shee  doth  remaine.3 

ffins. 


1  And  here  her  residence  hath  tane. 
— Eel.  A  change  not  for  the  better. 
— F. 


2  omitted.— Eel. 

8  In  Engl?    now   shee   doth  remain, 
—P. 


•  [Those  readers  (if  any)  who  have  looked 
at  the  notes  will  have  noticed  that  the 
fourth  edition  of  the  Eeliques  has  restored 
the  reading  of  the  MS.  in  several  places 
where  the  first  has  altered  it, — though  in 
others  it  leaves  the  changes  of  the  first 
edition  untouched : — thus  in  lines 

First  three  editions.       Fourth  edition  and  MS. 

6.  it         is  changed  into  itt 
15.  And  David  Kiccio  „   Lord  David 

18.  i'  th'  chaire 

19.  Although  it 

20.  And  though 
23.  And  I 

25.  queene  shee 
25.  slaine 
29.  wroth 


36.  betraye 

44.  All  underneath 

45.  we 

51.  hee 

52.  favour 


in  the  cheare 

And  tho  itt 

Altho 

I 

queene 

was  slaine 

wrothe 

betray 

Underneath  his 


he 
favor 


while  in  lines  31-32  the  manuscript 

"  for  death  of  the  queenes  Chamberlaine, 
the  King  himselfe  he  shall  dye," 


which  Percy  altered  in  his  first  edition  tc 

That  for  the  death  of  the  cliamberlaine, 
How  hee,  the  king  himselfe  sholde  dye, 

he  changed  back  in  the  fourth  to, 

For  the  death  of  the  queenes  chamber- 

laine, 
The  king  himselfe,  how  he  shall  die." 

I  write  he  changed  back,  for  Mr.  Davic 
Laing  says  that  a  friend  of  Percy's  and 
his  assured  him  that  Percy  himselJ 
edited  the  fourth  edition  of  the  Ediques 
and  that  with  great  care,  though  he  lei 
his  nephew,  in  the  Advertisement  to  thai 
edition,  take  the  responsibility  of  it  of 
his  own  episcopal  shoulders,  supposed  tc 
be  burdened  with  "more  important' 
matters.  It  is,  indeed,  evident  that  the 
many  changes  made  in  the  text  of  tht 
fourth  edition  must  have  been  carefully 
considered  by  Percy,  for  they  are  changes 
of  lines  sometimes  as  well  as  of  words 
-F.] 


265 


SEE  Introduction  to  King  James  &  Brown,  vol.  i.  p.  135. 

This  piece  is  printed  in  the  Reliques.  "  The  original  copy," 
says  Percy,  "(preserved  in  the  archives  of  tfhe  Antiquarian 
Society,  London)  is  entitled,  '  A  new  Ballad,  declaring  the  great 
treason  conspired  against  the  young  King  of  Scots,  and  how  one 
Andrew  Browne,  an  Englishman,  which  was  the  King's  Chamber  - 
laine,  prevented  the  same.  To  the  tune  of  Milfield,  or  els  to 
Green-sleeves.'  At  the  end  is  subjoined  the  name  of  the  author 
'  W.  Elderton.'  '  Imprinted  at  London  for  Yarathe  James, 
dwelling  in  Newgate  Market,  over  against  Ch.  Church,'  in  black- 
letter  folio." 

It  is  the  work  of  the  professional  ballad-writer  who  could 
"rhyme  you  so  eight  years  together,  dinners  and  suppers  and 
sleeping-hours  excepted";  and  it  is  well-executed  work  of  its 
sort.  The  image  is  fairly  well  shaped ;  but  there  is  scarcely  a 
spark  of  Heaven's  fire  in  it — no  breath  of  life  breathed  into  its 
nostrils. 

It  was  written,  no  doubt,  rather  to  give  information  than 
entertainment.  At  a  time  when  there  were  no  newspapers  cir 
culating  through  the  country,  the  ballad  was  an  ordinary  vehicle 
of  news.  "Marry,  they  say  that  the  running  stationers  of 
London,  I  mean  such  as  use  to  sing  ballads,  and  those  that  cry 
malignant  pamphlets,  &c."  (Knaves  are  honest  men,  or  More 
Knaves  yet,  apud  Collier's  Book  of  Roxburgh  e  Ballads.) 

1  N.B.  This  Copy  is  very  imperfect.  liques,  vol.  ii.  p.  204,  first  edition,  is  the 

See  Page  58  &  59  [of  MS.],  Stanza  the  "  King  of  Scots  and  Andrew  Browne." 

last  in  that  Page  [vol.  i.  p.  141,  1. 108-9  The  version  there  printed  contains  15 

of  print],  where  the  subject  of  this  ballad  stanzas,  while  the  present  one  has  only 

is  alluded  to. — P.     The  title  in  the  Be-  10,  and  two  of  these  are  incomplete. — 1. 

VOL.  II.  T 


266 


BISHOPPE   AND    BROWNE. 


How  sad 
that  subjects 
can't  be 
true! 


JESUS  god  !  what »  greeffe  is  this 

thai  Princes  subiects  cannot  be  true  ! 
but  still  the  devill  &  2  some  of  his 
4        doth  play  his  part,  as  plaine  is  in  shew.3 


in  Scotland  in  Scottland  dwelles  a  bony  king, 

as  proper  a  youth  as  any  can  bee  ; 
hee  is  giuen  to  euery  happy  4  thing 
8        thai  can  be  in  a  Prince  to  see.5 


King 
James's 
nurse  heard 
that  he  was 
to  be 
poisoned. 


She  called 
for  help. 


12 


on  whitsontyde,  as  itt  befell, 

a  possett  was  made  to  giue  the  King  ; 
&  thai  his  Ladye  Nurse  heard  tell 

thai  itt  was  made  a  poysoned  thing, 
shee  cryed,  &  called  pittiouslye, 
"  helpe !  or  else  the  King  must  dye  !  " 


Browne 

sprang 

forward, 


leapt  out  of 
a  window, 


&  Browne  being  6  an  Englishman, 
1 6        he  did  heare  7  thai  Ladyes  pityous  crye  ; 

but  w^th  his  sword  he  besturred  him  then ; 
forth  att  the  dore  he  thought  to  fflee, 

but  euery  dore  was  made  full  fast ; 
20    forth  of  a  window  hee  lope  at  last.8 


met  the 
Bishop  with 
the 


he  mett  the  Bishopp  att  the  dore, 
&  w^th  the  possett  in  his  hand, 
the  sight  of  Browne  made  the  Bishopp  agast ; 


1  Out  alas  !  what  a— Bel. 

2  hath.— Eel. 

9  Will  play  their  parts,   whatsoever 

ensue : 

Forgetting  what  a  grievous  thing 
It  is  to  offend  the  anointed  kinge? 
Alas  for  woe,  why  should  it  be  so, 
This  makes  a  sorrowful  heigh  ho. 
-Eel. 

The  collation  after  this  is  not  com 
plete.— F. 


4  The  y  is  made  over  an  h  in  the  MS 
— F. 

5  Eel.  adds:— 

Yet  that  uuluckie  countrie  still 
Hath  people  given  to  craftie  will, 
Alas  for  woe,  &c. 

6  One  Browne  that  was. — Eel. 

7  And  hard.— Eel. 

8  MS.  at  last  lope  hee. — F.     Out  of  s 
window  he  got  at  last. — Eel. 


BISIIOPPE    AND    BROWNE. 


267 


24        he  bade  him  soe  boldleye  stay  &  stand, 
with  him  were  2  that  ran  awaye 
for  feare  lest  browne  shold  make  a  fray. 


"  Bishopp,"  said  Browne,  "  what  hast  thou  there  P" 
28        "nothing  at  all,  my  ffreinde,1"  Quoth  la.ee, 

"but  a  possett  to  make  the  King  good  cheere." 
"  is  itt  soe  ?  "  sayd  Browne,  "  that  will  I  see  ; 

before  thou  goe  any  further  inn, 
32    of  this  possett  thou  shalt  begin." 


poisoned 
posset, 


"  Browne,"  said  the  Bishopp,  "  I  know  thee  well ; 

thou  art  a  yong  man  both  pore  &  bare  ; 
&  liuings  2  of  3  thee  I  shall  bestowe  ; 
36        goe  thou  thy  way,  &  take  noe  care." 

"noe  !  "  said  Browne,  "  that  shall  not  bee  ! 
lie  not  be  a  traitor  for  all  christentye ! 

for  be  itt  for  wayle,4  or  for  woe  be  itt, 
40        drinke  thou  off  this  sorrowfull  possett." 

the  Bishopp  dranke ;  then  by  &  by 
his  belly  burst,  &  he  ffell  downe : 
a  iust  reward  for  his  traitorye. 

44        "  marry,  this  was  a  possett  indeed  !  "  sayd  Browne, 
he  searched  the  Bishopp,  &  found  they  Kayes 
to  goe  to  the  King  when  he  did  please. 

&  when  the  Kinge  heard  tell  of  this, 
A  8        he  meekelye  fell  downe  on  his  knee, 

&  thanked  god  that  he  did  misse 
then  of  this  false  trecherye  ; 

&  then  he  did  perceiue  &  know 
52    that  his  clergye  wold  haue  him  betraid  [so.5] 


rejected  his 
bribes  to  be 
quiet, 


and  made 


the  Bishop 
drink  the 
posset. 
The  Bishop 
burst  and 
died. 


King  Jar 
thanked 
God, 


1  The  last  e  is  made  over  an  s  in  the 
MS.— P. 

2  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 
8  on.— Eel. 

1  i.  e.  sorrow :   unless  it  be  corruptly 


written  for  weal,  welfare,  good :  written 
by  the  Scots  weil,  wele.— P. 

5  Pel.    inserts    another   stanza   here, 
and  adds  four  after  the  noxt.— F. 


T  2 


268 


BISHOPPE   AND   BROWNE. 


rewarded 
the  nurse, 


and  knighted 
Browne. 


he  called  the  nursse  befor  his  grace, 

&  gaue  vnto  her  20**8  pounds  [a  yeere.] 
donghtye  Browne,  [i']  the  like  case, 
56        he  dubbd  him  ~K.night  with  gallant  cheere, 
bestowed  vpon  him  linings  great 
[For  dooing  such  a  manly  feat.1] 

ffins. 


ray   in   the  MS.  ; 
supplied  here  from  the  EeL,  which  adds  : 
As  he  did  showe,  to  the  bishop's  woe, 
Which  made  &c. 


and  then  four  more  stanzas  about  a  fresh 
attempt  to  make  away  with  the  King. 
— F. 


269 


THIS  ballad  was  printed  in  the  Reliques  from  the  Folio,  with  a 
few  "  corrections."  These  amount  to  the  insertion  of  six  new 
lines,  and  numerous  minor  changes.  The  copy  is  indeed  some 
what  mutilated,  and  needed  a  little  patching  to  make  it  present 
able  to  the  general  reader. 

"  Several  traditional  versions,"  says  Professor  Child  in  his 
English  and  Scotch  Ballads,  "  have  since  been  printed,  of  which 
we  give  Burd  Ellen  from  Jamieson's,  and  in  the  Appendix  Lady 
Margaret  from  Kinloch's  Collection.  Jamieson  also  furnishes  a 
fragment,  and  Buchan2  (Ballads  of  the  North  of  Scotland,  ii.  30) 
a  complete  copy  of  another  version  of  Burd  Ellen ;  and  Chambers 
(Scottish  Ballads,  193)  makes  up  an  edition  from  all  the  copies, 
which  we  mention  here  because  he  has  taken  some  lines  from  a 
manuscript  supplied  by  Mr.  Kinloch." 

The  love  and  fidelity  of  a  woman  are  here  tried  to  the  utmost 
limit.  Worse  sufferings  than  are  even  mentioned  in  the  Nut- 
brown  Maid,  and  in  that  feeble  reflection  of  it,  A  Jigge,  are  here 
verily  endured.  Certainly  "  Burd  Ellen  "  is  the  better,  more 
expressive  title  for  the  ballad.  She  is  the  one  centre  of  interest 
in  it — the  one  living  glory  and  delight.  Child  Waters  appears 
but  to  introduce  her — to  "  bring  her  out  " — to  furnish  her  with 
an  opportunity  for  displaying  her  splendid  trust  and  adherence. 
He  must  be  regarded  so,  or  he  is  intolerable.  This  part  he 
performs  excellently.  He  brings  Ellen's  faithfulness  into  glorious 

1  A   Tryal  of    female  Affection    not  2  This    Buchan    (whom   I    once    en- 

unlike  the  Nut-brown   Maid.     Shewing  deavoured  to  assist  in  his  poverty  by 

how  child  Waters  made  his  Mr."  undergo  procuring  purchasers  for  his  books)  was 

many  Hardships,  &  afterwards  married  a  most  daring  forger :  scarcely  anything 

her.     It  was   not  necessary  to  correct  that  he  has  published  can  be  trusted  to  as 

this  much  for  the  Press.— P.  genuine. — A.  Dyce. 


270  CHILDE   WATERS. 

relief.  Let  this  and  kindred  ballads,  then,  be  accepted  as  atone 
ments  for  the  light  doubting  talk  men  sometimes  hold  about 
women. 

Be  it  true  or  wrong 

These  men  among 

On  women  do  complaine 

Affermyng  this 

How  that  it  is 

A  labour  spent  in  vaine 

To  love  them  wele 

For  never  a  dele 

They  love  a  man  agayne. 

For  lete  a  man 

Do  what  he  can 

Ther  favour  to  attayne 

Yet  yf  a  newe 

To  them  pursue 

Ther  furst  trew  lover  than 

Laboureth  for  nought 

And  from  her  thought 

He  is  a  bannisshed  man. 

I  say  not  nay 

But  that  all  day 

It  is  both  writ  &  sayde 

That  woman's  fayth 

Is  as  who  sayth 

All  utterly  decayed. 

This  and  kindred  ballads  show  how,  in  spite  of  many  sad 
scandals,  in  spite  of  suspicions  and  sneers,  the  heart  of  men 
still  nursed  and  cherished  a  precious  fond  belief  in  the  truth 
of  women.  Much  frivolity  there  might  be,1  much  hypocrisy, 
much  falseness ;  but  ever  here  and  there  was  one  to  be  found 
— one  who,  through  good  report  and  through  evil,  through  all 
extreme  distresses  and  neglects  and  cruelties,  would  never  with 
draw  her  trust  from  him  to  whom  once  she  had  given  it — would 
never  falsify  the  vows  she  had  once  uttered — would  never 
fail  from  her  true-love's  side — una  de  multis  face  nuptiali 

1  See  the  ballad  in  the  metre  of  the       beginning, 
Notbrowne  Mayd  in  Mr.  Skeat's  Preface  masteres  anne, 

to  Partenay,  p.  ii,  (E.  E.  T.  Soc.  1866)  I  am  your  man.— F. 


CHILDE    WATERS.  271 

digna.  Such  an  one  is  Ellen  in  this  ballad.  She  illustrates  how 
"many  waters  cannot  quench  love,  neither  can  the  floods  drown 
it."  She  cares  nothing  for  gold  and  fee  ;  had  rather  have  one 
kiss  of  her  love's  mouth  or  one  twinkling  of  his  eye  than 
"  Cheshire  and  Lancashire  both " ;  will  lay  aside  her  woman's 
dress,  sacrifice  her  long  yellow  locks,  endure  strange  hardships 
— running  barefoot  through  the  broom  and  struggling  through  the 
water — invoke  generous  blessings  on  the  head  of  her  supposed 
rival,  obey  the  most  trying  orders,  that  she  may  accompany  and 
please  the  master  of  her  heart.  Her  love  never  hesitates.  When, 
after  much  ill  usage,  she  gives  birth  to  a  child  in  the  stable 
whither  she  has  gone  in  the  early  morning  to  feed  the  Child's 
horse,  she  lets  no  murmur  against  the  author  of  her  miseries 
escape  her. 

She  said,  "  Lullaby,  my  own  dear  child, 

Lullaby,  dear  child  dear ! 
I  would  thy  father  were  a  king, 

Thy  mother  laid  on  a  bier." 

In  the  end  her  trust  wins  its  reward. 

"  Peace  now,"  he  said,  "  good  fair  Ellen, 

And  be  of  good  cheer,  I  thee  pray ; 
And  the  bridal  and  the  churching  both 

They  shall  be  upon  one  day." 


CHILDE  :  waiters  in  his  stable  stoode,  TO  chiide 

&  stroaket  his  milke  white  steede : 

to  him  came  a  ffaire  young  Ladye  «>»«*  fair 

4         as  ere  did  weare  *  womans  wee[de  2 ;] 

saies,  "  christ  you  saue,  good  Chyld  waters  !  "  sayS) 

sayes,  "  christ  you  saue  and  see  ! 
my  girdle  of  gold  which  was  too  longe 
8         is  now  to  short  flfor  mee  ; 


1  ware. — P.     ever  ware. — Bel.  2  weed. — P. 


272 


CHILDE   WATERS. 


"  I  am  with 
child  by 
you." 


12 


"  &  all  is  with  one 1  chyld  of  yours, 

I  ffeele  sturre  att  my  side, 
my  gowne  of  greene,  it  is  to  strayght ; 

before  it  was  to  wide." 


take 

Cheshire  and 
Lancashire, 


"  if  the  child  be  mine,2  faire  Ellen,"  he  sayd, 

"  be  mine,  as  you  tell  mee, 
take  3  you  Cheshire  &  Lancashire  both, 
16          take  them  jour  owne  to  bee. 


"  if  the  child  be  mine,  ffaire  Ellen,"  he  said, 

"  be  mine,  as  you  doe  sweare, 
take  you  Cheshire  &  Lancashire  both, 


ani  make 

your  heir."     20          &  make  thai,  child  yo^r  heyre." 


"  I'd  rather 
have  a  kiss 


shee  saies,  "  I  had  rather  haue  one  kisse, 

child  waters,  of  thy  mouth, 
then  I  wold  haue  Cheshire  &  lancashire  both, 
24         thai  lyes 4  by  north  &  south. 


and  a  look 
from  you, 
than  your 
counties." 


"  &  I  had  rather  haue  a  twinkling, 

Child  waters,  of  yo^r  eye,5 
then  I  wold  haue  Cheshire  &  Lancashire  both, 
28         to  take  them  mine  oune  to  bee !  " 


he  must  take 
the  fairest 
lady  north 
with  him. 


Ellen  asks 
to  be  his 
footpage. 


"  to-morrow,  Ellen,  I  must  forth  ryde 

soe  ffarr  into  6  the  North  countrye  ; 
the  fiairest  Lady  thai  I  can  ffind, 

Ellen,  must  goe  w^'th  mee."  7 
"  &  euer  I  pray  you,  Child  watters, 

yo-wr  ffootpage  let  me  bee  !  " 


1  a.— P. 

2  Only  one  stroke  for  the  m. — F. 
mine. — P. 

3  Then  take.— Eel. 

4  lye.— P. 

5  thine  ee. — Ed. 


6  far  into.— P. 
be  7  The  Eeliques  inserts : 

Though  I  am  not  that  ladye  fayre, 

Yet  let  me  go  with  thee. — F. 

Tho'  I  am  not  that  fayre  Lady, 

Yet  let  me  go  with  thee. — P. 


CHILDE    WATERS. 


273 


"  if  you  will  my  ffootpage  be,  Ellen, 
30         as  you  doe  tell  itt  mee, 

then  you  must  cutt  your  gownne  of  greene 
an  inche  aboue  jour  knee  ; 

"  soe  must  you  doe  jour  yellow  lockes, 
40         another  inch  l  aboue  yo*wr  eye  ; 

you  must  tell  noe  man  what  is  my  name  ; 
my  ffootpage  then  you  shall  bee." 

all  this  2  long  day  Child  waters  rode, 
44         shee  ran  bare  ffoote  3  by  his  side  ; 

yett  was  he  neuer  soe  curteous  a  "Knight, 
to  say,  "  Ellen,  will  you  ryde  ?  " 

but  all  this  day  Child  waters  rode, 
48          shee  ran  4  barffoote  thorow  the  broome  ! 
yett  he  was  5  neuer  soe  curteous  a  Knight 
as  to  say,  "  put  on  jour  shoone." 

"ride  softlye,"  shee  said,6  "  Child  watters  ; 
52          why  doe  you  ryde  soe  ffast  ? 

the  child,  which  is  no  mans  but  yours,7 
my  bodye  itt  will  burst.8  " 

he  sayes,9  "  sees  thou  yonder  10  water,  Ellen, 
56          that  fflowes  from  banke  to  brim  ?  " 

"  I  trust  to  god,  Child  waters,"  shee  said,11 
"you  will  neuer  12  see  mee  swime." 

but  when  shee  came  to  the  waters  side, 
60          shee  sayled  to  the  Chinne  : 

"except  the  13  LortZ  of  heauen  be  nay  speed, 
now  must  I  14  learne  to  swime." 


1  an  inch. — P. 

2  Shee  all  the. — Ed.  and  omits  '  shee  ' 
in  the  next  line. — F. 

8  Sheo  all  the  long  day  (that)  Ch.Wat. 
rode,  ran  barefoot. — P. 

4  She  all  the  long  day'Ch.  W.  rode, 
Kan.— P. 


He  agrees, 


if  she'll  cut 
her  gown 


and  hair. 


She  runs 
barefoot  by 
his  side      ' 


all  day  thro' 
the  broom. 


Ride  softly, 
she  says. 


He  makes 
her 


5  was  he.— P.  6  O.— P. 

7  thine.— P.  9  brast,— P. 

9  Hee  sayth.— Eel.  I0  yond.— P. 

11  I   trust  in   God   0   Child  Waters. 
— Eel.         12  you'll  never.— P.    not.— P. 
13  but  the.— P.    Now  the.— Eel  and  P. 
11  For  I  must. — Eel. 


274 


CHILDE    WATERS. 


swim  thro' 
the  water. 


the  salt  waters  bare  vp  Ellens  l  clothes ; 
64         our  Ladye  bare  vpp  he[r]  chinne ; 

&  Child  waters  was  a  woe  man,2  good  Lore?,3 
to  ssee  faire  Ellen  swime. 


He  shows 
her 


&  when  shee  oner  the  water  was, 
68          Shee  then  came  to  his  knee  : 

he  said,  "  come  hither,  ffaire  Ellen, 
loe  yonder  what  I  see  ! 


[page  275] 


a  hall. 


The  fairest 
girl  there  is 
his  bride, 


his  para 
mour. 


Ellen 


wishes  him 
and  his  bride 
God  speed. 


"  seest  thou  not  yonder  hall,  Ellen  ? 
72          of  redd  gold  shine  the  yates  4  ; 
theres  24  ffayre  ladyes,5 

the  ffairest  is  my  wordlye  make.6 

"  Seest  thou  not  yonder  hall,  Ellen  ? 
76         of  redd  gold  shineth  the  tower ; 
there  is  7  24  ffaire  Ladyes,8 
the  fairest  is  my  paramoure." 

"  I  doe  see  the  hall  now,  Child  waters, 
80         thai  of  redd  gold  shineth  the  yates.9 
god  giue  10  good  then  of  yo^r  selfe, 
&  of  jour  wordlye  make  1 1 ! 


"  I  doe  see  the  hall  now,  Child  waters, 
84         thai  of  redd  gold  shineth  the  tower, 
god  giue  12  good  then  of  your  selfe 
and  of  jour  paramoure !  " 


her.— Ed. 

i.  e.  a  woeful  man. — P. 

Ch.  W.  was  a  woe  man  good  Lord. 
—P. 

shines  [the]  gate.— P. 

Of  twenty  foure  fayre  ladyes  there. 
— Eel.    of.— P. 

6  mate :  so  the  rhyme  seems  to  require, 
but  Make  signifies  also  a  Mate,  match,  or 
equal,  a  familiar  companion,  from  A.-S. 


maca,  gemaca,  par,  socius,  conjux.  Vid. 
Jun.  Gloss.  Sax.  Voc. — P.  Eel.  omits 
'  wordlye.' — F. 

7  There  are  ....  there.-— P. 

8  Eel.  adds  '  there.'— F. 

9  yate.— P. 

10  [insert]  you.— P. 

11  worthy  mate. — P. 

12  [insert]  you.— P. 


CHILDE    WATERS. 


275 


there  were  24  Ladyes,1 
88         were  2  playing  at  the  ball ; 

&  Ellen  was  3  the  ffairest  Ladye,4 
must  bring  his  steed  to  the  stall. 


She  stables 
his  steed, 


there  were  24  faire  Ladyes  5 
92        was  6  playing  att  the  Chesse  ; 

&  Ellen  shee  was7  the  ffairest  Ladye,8 
must  bring  his  horsse  to  grasse. 

&  then  bespake  Child  waters  sister, 
<JG        &  9  these  were  the  words  said  shee  ; 

"you  haue  the  prettyest  ffootpage,  brother, 
thai  euer  I  saw  10  with  mine  eye, 


and  takes  it 
to  grass. 


His  sister 


asks  that 
his  footpage 


"  but  that  his  belly  it  is  soe  bigg, 
1 00         his  girdle  goes  1 1  wonderous  hye  ; 
&  euer  I  pray  you,  Child  waters, 

let  him  goe  into  the  Chamber  with  mee.12  " 

13  "  it  is  more  meete  for  a  litle  ffootpage 
104        that  has  run  through  mosse  and  mire, 

to  take  his  supper  vpon  his  knee 
&  sitt  downe  14  by  the  kitchin  fyer, 

then  to  goe  into  the  chamber  with  any  Ladye 
108        that  weares  soe  [rich]  attyre.15  " 


may  go  to 
her  room 
with  her. 


Childe 
Waters  says 
the  page  had 

better  sup 
by  the 
kitchen  fire. 


1  '  were  playing '  follows  and  is  crossed 
out. — F.      There  were  24  faire  Ladies 
there. — P.      There  twenty  four  ladyes 
were. — Eel. 

2  A.— Eel.    A.— P. 
that  was,  Qu.— P. 

the  fayrest  ladye  there. — Eel. 
P.  has  written  there  at  the  end. — 
F.     Eel.  omits  '  were.' 
a.— P. 

that  was,  Qu. — P. 
the  fayrest  ladye  there. — Eel. 
Eel.  omits  &. — F. 
10  I  did  see.— P.    I  did  see.— Eel. 


"  is.— P. 

12  in  my  chamber  lie. — P. 

13  Percy  turns  the  last  two  lines  into 
another  stanza,  and  prefixes  it  to  the 
first  four : — 

It  is  not  fit  for  a  little  foot  page 

That  has    run    through    mosse    and 
myre, 

To  lye  in  the  chamber  of  any  lady 
That  weares  soe  riche  attyre. 

14  And  lye.— Bel. 

15  rich  attyre,  Qu.— P. 


276 


CHILDE    WATERS. 


He  sends 


but  when  the  had  supped  euery  one, 

to  bedd  they  tooke  they  1  way  ; 
he  sayd,  "  come  hither,  my  litle  footpage, 
1 12        hearken  what  I  doe  say  ! 


to  hire  a 

prostitute 
for  him 


and  carry 
her  up  to 
him. 


116 


"  &  goe  thy  downe  into  2  yonder  towne, 

&  low  into  the  street ; 
the  ffarest  Ladye  that  thou  can  find, 

hyer  her  in  mine  armes  to  sleepe, 
&  take  her  vp  in  thine  armes  2  3 

for  filinge  4  of  her  ffeete." 


Ellen 


hires  the 
woman 


and  carries 
her  up, 


Ellen  is  gone  into  the  towne, 
120        &  low  into  the  streete  : 

the  fairest  Ladye  that  shee  cold  find, 
shee  hyred  in  his  armes  to  sleepe, 

&  tooke  her  in  her  armes  2 
124        for  filing  of  her  ffeete. 


and  asks  to 
lie  at  his 
bed-foot. 


At  daybreak 


Childe 
Waters 
orders  Ellen 
to  feed  his 


"  I  pray  you  now,  good  Child  waters, 

that  I  may  creepe  in  att  you?  bedds  feete  ;  5 
for  there  is  noe  place  about  this  house 
128        where  I  may  say  6  a  sleepe." 

7  this,  &  itt  droue  now  affterward  8 

till  itt  was  neere  the  day : 
he  sayd,  "  rise  vp,  my  litle  ffoote  page, 
132        &  giue  my  steed  corne  &  hay  ; 

&  soe  doe  thou  9  the  good  blacke  oates, 

that  he  may  carry  me  the  10  better  away." 


their.— P.     they  =  the.— F. 

thee    into. — P.     thee    downe   into. 
—Ed. 

twaine. — Eel. 

i.  e.  for  fear  of  defiling. — P. 

Let  me  lie  at  your  feet. — P.     Let 
me  lye  at  your  feete. — Eel. 

6  Vide  Liffe  &  Death.  Pag.  384, 
lin.  36 ;  pag.  390,  lin.  453  [of  MS.]— P. 
say  =  essay,  try. — F. 


7  In  the  Eeliques  a  stanza  is  made  of 
the  next  two  lines  :  — 

He  gave  her  leave,  and  faire  Ellen 

Down  at  his  beds  feet  laye  : 
This  done  the  night  e  drove  on  a  pace, 

And  when  it  was  neare  the  daye.  —  F. 

8  This  done,  the  night  drove  on  apace. 


9  And  give  him  nowe. 
10  To  carry  mee.  —  Eel. 


Eel. 


CHILDE    WATERS. 


277 


And  vp  then  rose  !  ffaire  Ellen,  [page  276] 

136        &  gaue  2  his  steed  corne  &  hay, 

&  soe  shee  did  on  3  the  good  blacke  oates, 
that  he  might  carry  him  the  better  4  away. 

shee  layned  5  her  backe  to  the  Manger  side, 
140        &  greiuouslye  did  groane  ;  6 
&  that  beheard  his  mother  deere, 
and  7  heard  her  make  her  moane. 


She  does  it, 


but  groans, 
for  her  pains 
come  on. 
Childe 
Watcrs's 
mother 


shee  said,  "  rise  vp,  thou  Child  waters ! 
144        I  thinke  thou  art  a  8  cursed  man  ; 

for  yonder  is  a  ghost  in  thy  9  stable 
that  greiuouslye  doth  groane, 

or  else  some  woman  laboures  of10  child, 
148        shee  is  soe  woe  begone  !  " 

but  vp  then  rose  Child  waters,11 

&  did  on  his  shirt  of  silke  ; 
then  he  put  on  his  12  other  clothes 
152        on  his  body  as  white  as  milke. 

&  when  he  came  to  the  stable  dore, 

full  still  that  hee  did  13  stand, 
that  hee  might  heare  now  faire  Ellen, 
156        how  shee  made  her  monand14  : 


tells  him  to 
get  up, 


there's  a 
ghost  in  his 
stable. 


or  a  woman 
in  labour. 


He  dresses, 


goes  to  the 
stable, 


und  hears 
Ellen 


shee  said,  "  lullaby e,  my  15  owne  deere  child  ! 

lullabye,  deere  child,  deere  ! 

I  wold  thy  father  were  a  king, 

160        thy  mother  layd  on  a  beere  ! 


sing  to  her 
child : 


would  that 
his  father 
were  a  king, 
she  dead ! 


1  [insert]  the.— P.  2  to  give.— P. 

8  Bel.  omits  on. — F. 

4  to  carry  him  th'  bet. — P. 

8  leaned.— P. 

6  The  Eeliques  inserts  and  alters  thus : 
She  leaned  her  back  to  the  manger  side 

And  there  shee  made  her  moane, 
And  that  beheard  his  mother  deare, 

Shee  heard  her  '  woeful  woe ; ' 
Shee  sayd,  Kise  up,  thou  Childe  Waters, 

And  into  thy  stable  goe. — F. 


7  she.— P. 

8  thee  a.— P. 

9  the.— P. 

10  with. — Eel. 

11  'soon'  is  written  at  the  end  by  P.. 
— F. 

12  and  so  he  did  his. — P. 

13  there  did  he.— P. 

14  monand,  is  moaning,  i.  e.  moan.  Lye. 

15  mine.— Bel. 


278 


CHILDE   WATERS. 


Childe 
Waters 
promises 

to  marry 
her. 


164 


"  peace  now,"  he  said,  "  good  faire  Ellen  ! 

&  be  of  good  cheere,  I  thee  pray ; 
&  the  Bridall,  &  the  churching  both, 

they  l  shall  bee  vpon  one  day."2 

ffins. 


1  Eel.  omits  they. — F. 

2  In  the  admiration  bestowed  on  fair 
Ellen,  Enid,   and  patient  Grisild,  it  is 
doubtful  whether  disgust  and  indignation 
at  their  friends'  conduct  have  been  suf 


ficiently  expressed  or  felt.  Anything 
more  deliberately  brutal,  I  find  it  hard 
to  conceive.  "  Cursed  man "  is  surely 
an  epithet  well  deserved  here. — F. 


Perhaps  the  most  poetical  and  finest 
version  of  this  poem  is  to  be  found  in 
Burger's  melodious  German  ballad,  en 
titled  Graf  Walter,  which  he  professes  to 
have  made  nach  dem  Alt-englischen,  and 
which  follows  Percy's  edition  pretty 
closely.  He  has  made  it  into  a  very 
pleasing  poem,  having  paraphrased  it 
after  his  own  fashion  with  great  artistic 
skill. 

Burger  concludes  thus : 

"  Sammt  deinem  Vater  schreibe  Gott 

Dich  in  sein  Segensbuch  ! 
Werd'  ihm  und  dir  ein  Purpurkleid, 
Und  mir  ein  Leichentuch !  " 


"  0  nun,  0  nun,  suss,  siisse  Maid, 

Suss,  siisse  Maid,  halt  ein ! 
Mein  Busen  ist  ja  nicht  von  Eis, 
Und  nicht  von  Marmelstein. 

"  0  nun,  0  nun,  suss,  siisse  Maid, 

Suss,  siisse  Maid,  halt  ein  ! 
Es  soil  ja  Tauf.'  und  Hochzeit  nun 
In  einer  Stunde  sein." 

He  has  also  translated  "  King  John  and 
the  Abbot  of  Canterbury"  as  Der  Kaiser 
und  der  Abt,  and  "  The  Child  of  Elle  " 
as  Die  Entfuhrung. — Skeat. 


279 


*  off  Stimuli  t1 

THERE  are  copies  of  this  ballad  in  the  Eoxburghe  and  the  Bagford 
collections,  and  in  the  Collection  of  Old  Ballads.  It  is  printed 
in  the  Reliques  chiefly  from  the  Folio  MS.  "  compared  with  two 
ancient  printed  copies."  It  appears  in  numberless  recent  collec 
tions,  as  Professor  Child's,  Mr.  Bell's  Ballads  of  the  Peasantry, 
Mr.  Dixon's  Ancient  Poems,  Ballads  and  Songs  of  the  Peasantry 
of  England.  The  Folio  copy,  differing  slightly  from  the  current 
ones,  is  here  printed  faithfully  for  the  first  time ;  for  the  editor 
of  the  Reliques  seems  to  have  thought  that  to  him  too,  as  to 
painters  and  poets, 

Quidlibet  audondi  semper  fuit  eequa  potestas, 

and  freely  used  his  license  in  the  case  of  this  ballad.  He  was 
offended  by  the  "  absurdities  and  inconsistencies  "  of  the  old  ver 
sion,  "  wh'ich  so  remarkably  prevailed  "  in  that  part  of  the  song 
where  the  Beggar  discovers  himself.  These  were,  we  suppose,  that 
a  Montfort  should  be  spoken  of  as  serving  in  the  wars, 

When  first  our  King  his  fame  did  advance 
And  fought  for  his  title  in  delicate  France, 

and  then  that  the  blinded  soldier,  when  at  last  he  got  back  to  his 
country,  should  resign  himself  to  a  beggar's  life  instead  of  at 
once  declaring  himself  and  appealing  to  the  royal  bounty,  if  he 
was  possessed  of  no  estate  to  support  him.  There  seemed  no 
hope  of  curing  such  grievous  deformities  as  these ;  so  the  whole 
limb  was  lopped  off,  and  a  new  one  substituted,  manufactured 
by  Eobert  Dodsley,  author  of  The  Economy  of  Human  Life. 
Eight  new  stanzas  were  substituted.  "  By  the  alteration  of  a 

1  In  the  printed  collection  of  Old  Ballads,  1 726.     Vol.  2,  p.  202,  N.  35.— P. 


280  BESSIE   OFF   BEDNALL. 

few  lines/'  says  Percy, "  the  story  is  rendered  much  more  affecting, 
and  is  reconciled  to  probability  and  true  history."  Let  those  who 
think  it  profitable  or  possible  to  bring  about  such  a  reconcilia 
tion  be  thankful.  The  copy  as  now  at  last  reproduced  gives  one 
stanza  (vv.  228-32)  not  found  in  the  ordinary  versions. 

The  ballad  was  certainly  not  written  later  than  Queen  Eliza 
beth's  reign ;  for,  as  Percy  points  out,  Mary  Ambree  was  sung  to 
the  tune  of  it.  One  reason  for  which  Percy  attributes  it  to  that 
reign  seems  odd — because  the  "  Queen's  Arms  "  are  mentioned 
in  v.  23  ! 

It  was  an  extremely  popular  ballad,  and  no  wonder.  "  This 
very  house,"  writes  Pepys  in  his  Diary,  June  25,  1663,  of  Sir  W. 
Eider's  place  at  Bethnal  Green,  "  was  built  by  the  blind  Beggar 
of  Bednall  Green,  so  much  talked  of  and  sang  in  ballads ;  but 
they  say  it  was  only  some  outhouses  of  it."  (apud  Mr.  Chappell's 
Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time,  where  the  tune  is  given.) 
The  story  is  pretty,  and  is  told  unaffectedly.  Each  part  has  its 
own  surprise :  the  one  revealing  the  wealth,  the  other  the  high 
birth  of  the  Beggar.  These  denouements  are  not  supremely 
noble ;  but  they  are  such  as  please  the  crowd.  Such  sudden 
reverses  are  always  delightful.  But  what  a  bathos  it  would 
seem  if,  in  the  ballad  of  King  Cophetua,  the  Beggar-maid  should 
turn  out  to  be  a  disguised  Princess,  or  the  village  maiden,  whom 
the  Lord  of  Burleigh  in  Mr.  Tennyson's  poem  leads  home,  a  Lady 
of  title  !  The  present  ballad  is  not  satisfied  to  represent  Bessie 
as  ( ( pleasant  and  bright,"  "  of  favours  most  fair,"  ( ( courteous."  It 
crowns  her  with  vulgarer  honours — showers  riches  on  her,  and 
proves  her  of  high  lineage. 

Eegium  certe  genus  et  penates 

Mceret  iniquos. 

Crede  non  illam  tibi  de  scelesta 
Plebe  dilectam. 


BESSIE    OFF    BEDNALL. 


281 


ITT  was  a  blind  beggar  that  long  lost  his  sight, 
he  had  a  faire  daughter  both  pleasant  &  bright, 
&  many  a  gallant  braue  sutor  had  shee, 
4    for  none  was  soe  comelye  as  pretty  Bessye. 

And  tho  shee  was  of  flavor  most  faire, 
yett  seeing  shee  was  but  a  beggars  heyre, 
of  ancyent  houskeepers  despised  was  shee, 
8    whose  sonnes  came  as  sutors  to  prettye  Bessye. 

Wherefore  in  great  sorrow  faire  Bessy  did  say, 
"  good  ffather  &  mother,  let  me  goe  away 
to  seeke  out  my  fortune,  where  euer  itt  be." 
12    this  sute  then  they  granted  to  pretty  Bessye. 

Then  Bessye  that  was  of  bewtye  soe  bright, 
they  cladd  in  gray  russett,  &  late  in  the  night 
w^th  teares  shee  lamented  her  destinye  ; 
16    soe  sadd  &  soe  heauy  was  pretty  Bessye. 

Shee  went  till  shee  came  to  Stratford  the  bow, 
then  knew  shee  not  whither  nor  which  way  to  goe ; 
ffrom  ffather  &  mother  alone  parted  shee, 
20    who  sighed  &  sobbed  for  pretty  Bessye. 

Shee  kept  on  her  lourney  till  it  was  day, 
&  went  vnto  Rumford  along  the  hye  way, 
&  att  the  Queenes  armes  entertained  was  shee, 
24    soe  faire  &  welfavoured  was  pretty  Bessye. 

Shee  had  not  beene  there  a  month  to  an  End, 
but  Master  &  distress,  and  all,  were  her  ifreind ; 
&  euery  braue  gallant  that  once  did  her  see, 
28    was  straight-way  in  loue  w/th  pretty  Bessye. 

Great  guifts  they  did  giue  her  of  siluer  &  gold, 
&  in  their  songs  daylye  her  loue  was  extold ; 
her  beawtye  was  blessed  in  euery  degree, 
32    soe  faire  &  soe  comlye  was  pretty  Bessye. 
VOL.  ii.  u 


A  blind 
beggar  had 
a  fail- 
daughter. 


House 
holders 
despised  her, 


so  she 


left  her 
parents, 


walkt  to 
Stratford, 


stopt  at  the 
Queen's 
Arms, 
Rumford, 


and  all  the 
gallants  fell 
in  love  with 
her, 


sang  of  her 
beauty, 


282 


BESSIE    OFF   BEDNALL. 


and  did  her 
bidding. 


Four  suitors 
sue  her : 


1.  a  rich 
London 
Merchant, 

2.  a  Gentle 
man, 


3.  a  Knight, 


The  young  men  of  Rumford  in  her  had  their  loy, 
shee  showed  herseffe  curteous,  &  neuer  to  coye  ; 
and  att  her  commandement  wold  they  [ever]  bee, 
36    soe  ffayre  and  soe  comly  was  pretty  Bessye. 

ffowre  sutors  att  once  the  vnfco  her  did  goe,       [page  277] 
the  craved  her  flavor,  but  still  shee  sayd  noe  ; 
"  I  wold  not  wish  gentlemen  marry  w^th  mee :  " 
40    yett  euer  the  honored  pretty  Bessye. 

A  merchant  of  London,  whose  wealth  was  not  small, 
was  there  the  ffirst  sutor,  &  proper  w^th-all ; 
the  2d  a  genteleman  of  good  degree, 
44    who  wooed  &  sued  if  or  pretty  Bessye  ; 

The  3d.  of  them  was  a  gallant  young  Knight, 
&  he  came  vnto  her  disguised  in  the  night ; 
her  M.ist?ess  owne  sonne  the  4 .  man  must  bee, 


4.  the  Land 
lady's  son, 

for°her!U  die     48    who  swore  he  wold  dye  fibr  pretty  Bessye. 


The  Knight 
will  make 
her  a  lady ; 


the  Gentle 
man  will 
clothe  her  in 
velvet ; 


the 

Merchant 
will  give  her 
jewels. 


Bessy  refers 
them  to  her 
father. 


"  And  if  thou  wilt  wedd  w^'th  me,"  q^oth  the  Knight, 
"  He  make  thee  a  Ladye  w^'th  loy  [and]  delight ; 
my  hart  is  inthralled  by  thy  bewtye  ! 
52    then  grant  me  thy  flavor,  my  pretty  Bessye  !  " 

The  gentleman,  sayd,  "  marry  wifh  mee  ; 
in  silke  &  in  veluett  my  bessye  shalbee  ; 
my  hart  lyes  distressed;  O  helpe  me  !  "  q^oth  hee, 
56     "  &  grant  me  thy  Loue,  thou  pretty  Bessye  !  " 

"  Let  me  bee  thy  husband  !  "  the  Merchant  cold  say, 
"  thou  shalt  liue  in  London  both  gallant  &  gay ; 
my  shippes  shall  bring  home  rych  lewells  for  thee ; 
60    &  I  will  ffbr  euer  loue  pretty  Bessye." 

Then  Bessye  shee  sighed,  &  thus  shee  did  say, 
"  my  ffather  &  mother  I  meane  to  obey ; 
ffirst  gett  their  good  will,  &  be  ffaithfull  to  me, 
64    &  you  shall  enioye  your  prettye  Bessye." 


BESSIE    OFF   BEDNALL.  283 

To  euery  one  this  answer  shee  made, 
wherfore  vnto  her  they  loyffullye  sayd,  • 

"  this  thing  to  fulfill  wee  doe  all  agree  ;  Who  is  he? 

68    &  where  dwells  thy  ffather,  my  pretty  Bessy  ?  " 

"  My  ffather,"  shee  said,  "  is  soone  to  be  seene  ;  The  Blind 

he  is  the  blind  beggar  of  Bednall  greene,  Bednaii 

Greene 

thai  daylye  sitts  begging  ffor  charitye  ; 
72    he  is  the  good  ffather  of  pretty  Bessye  ; 

"  his  markes  &  his  tokens  are  knowen  ffu.ll  well,  led  by  a  dog 

he  alwayes  is  led  w/th  a  dogg  and  a  bell ; 
a  silly  blind  man,  god  knoweth,  is  hee, 
76    yett  hee  is  the  good  ffather  of  pretty  Bessye." 


"  Nay  then,"  quoth  the  Merchant.  "  thou  art  not  for  The 

J  '  «  Merch 

TY10A   I   ' 


ant, 


mee  ! 


"  nor,"  q?toth  the  Inholder,  "my  Wiffe  thou  shalt  bee ! "  innkeeper, 

"  I  lothe,"  sayd  the  gentleman,  "  a  beggars  degree  ;  and  Gentie- 

80    therffore,  ffarwell,  my  pretty  Bessye  !  "  man  cry  off. 

"  Why  then,"  quoth  the  knight,  "  hap  better  or  worsse,  But  the 

T  '     .    ,   .       ,,  Knight  says 

1  way  not  true  loue  by  the  waignt  ol  my  pursse, 
&  bewtye  is  bewtye  in  euery  degree, 

84    then  welcome  to  me,  my  pretty  Bessye  !  he'll  have 


"With  thee  to  thy  ffather  fforth  will  I  goe." 

"  nay  sofft,"  quoth  his  kinsman,  "  itt  must  not  be  soe  ;    His  kinsman 
a  beggars  daughter  noe  Ladye  shalbe ; 
88    therfore  take  thy  due  [leaue]  of  pretty  Bessye." 

But  soone  after  this,  by  breake  of  the  day,  but  ne 

the  knight  ffrom  Rumfford  stole  Bessye  away.  Bessy?  ° 

the  younge  men  of  Rumfford,  as  thicke  as  might  bee,  The  Eum- 
92    rode  affter  to  ffeitch  againe  pretty  Bessye  ; 

As  swift  as  they  winde  to  ryd  they  were  scene 
vntill  they  came  to  Bednall  greene  ;  overtake 

&  as  the  knight  lighted  most  curteouslye, 
96    the  Sought  against  him  for  pretty  Bessye  ; 

r  2 


284 


BESSIE    OFF   BEDNALL. 


but  he  is 
rescued. 


The  Blind 
Beggar 


offers  to 
give  his  girl 
as  much 
gold  as  the 
Knight's 
kin  will. 


[page  278] 


Agreed. 


But  rescew  speedilye  came  on  the  plaine, 
or  else  the  young  knight  if  or  his  loue  had  beene  slaine. 
this  ffray  being  ended,  then  straight  he  did  see 
100    his  kinsman  came  rayling  against  pretty  Bessye. 

Then  spake  the  blind  Beggar,  "althoe  I  be  poore, 
yett  rayle  not  against  my  child  at  my  dore  ; 
thoe  shee  be  not  decked  in  veluett  &  pearle, 
104    yett  will  I  dropp  angells  with  you  for  my  girle  ; 

"  And  then  if  my  gold  may  better  her  birthe, 
&  equall  the  gold  you  lay  on  the  earth, 
then  neyther  rayle,  nor  grudge  you  to  see 
108    the  blind  beggars  daughter  a  Lady  to  bee. 

"  Butt  ffirst  I  will  heare,  &  haue  itt  well  Knowen, 
the  gold  that  you  drop  shall  all  be  jour  owne." 
with  that  they  replyed,  "  contented  wee  bee." 
1  12    "then  here  is,"  quoth  the  Beggar,  "ffor  pretty  Bessye." 


The  Beggar 
lays  down 
angels 
against  the 
Knight's 


that  an  angell  he  dropped  on  the  ground, 
&  dropped  in  angells  500'! 
&  oftentimes  itt  was  proued  most  plaine, 
116    ffor  the  gentlemans  one  the  beggar  dropt  twayne, 

Soe  that  the  place  wherin  the  did  sitt, 

w^th  gold  was  couered  euery  whitt. 

tin  the  the  gentleman  hauing  dropped  all  his  store, 

is  gone,          120    said,  "  Beggar,  hold  !  for  wee  haue  noe  more. 

"  Thou  hast  ffulfilled  thy  promise  arright." 
"then  marry,"  q^oth  hee,  "  my  girle  to  this  ~Knight  ; 
&  heere,"  quoth  hee,  "He  throw  you  downe 
124    a  100"  more  to  buy  her  a  gowne." 


and  then 
gives  1007. 
more. 


The  gentleman  that  all  this  treasure  had  seene, 
admired  the  beggar  of  Bednall  greene, 
&  those  that  were  her  sutors  before, 
128    their  fflesh  for  verry  anger  they  tore. 


BESSIE   OFF   BEDNALL. 


285 


Then  was  ffaire  Bessye  mached  to  the  knight, 
&  made  a  Ladye  in  others  despite ; 
a  ffairer  Ladye  was  neuer  scene 
132    then  the  Beggars  daughter  of  Bednall  gree[ne]. 

But  of  their  sumptuos  marriage  &  ffeast, 
&  what  braue  LorJs  &  Knights  thither  we[r]e  prest, 
the  2d.  ffitt  shall  sett  to  sight, 
136    with  marueilous  pleasure  &  wished  delight. 


So  fair  Bessy 
is  made  a 
Lady, 


and  I'll 
tell  you  all 
about  the 
Marriage  in 
Fitt  II. 


140 

21  parte' 

144 


[Part  II.] 

Off  a  blind  beggars  daughter  most  bright, 
that  late  was  betrothed  vnto  a  younge  Knight, 
all  the  discourse  ther-of  you  did  see  : 
but  now  comes  the  wedding  of  pretty  Bes[sye]. 

within  a  gallant  pallace  most  braue, 
adorned  with,  all  the  cost  the  cold  haue, 
this  wedding  was  kept  most  sumptuously, 
&  all  ffor  the  creditt  of  pretty  Bessye. 


The  wedding 


is  held  in 
a  palace, 


and  a  grand 
banquet  is 
made. 


All  kind  of  dainty es  &  delicate  s  sweete 
was  brought  ffor  the  banquett,  as  it  most  mee[t], 
Partridge,  plouer,  &  venison  most  ffree, 
148    against  the  braue  wedding  of  pretty  Bessye. 


This   marryage   through   England   was   sp[r]ead   by   Nobles  and 

r  ,  -i  gentles  come 

repor[t],  to  it. 

soe  that  a  great  number  therto  did  resort 
of  nobles  &  gentles  in  euery  degree  ; 
152    &  all  was  ffor  the  ffame  of  pretty  Bessye.  ^ 


To  church  then  went  this  gallant  younge  knight  ; 
h[i]s  bride  ffollowed,  an  angell  most  bright, 
with  troopes  of  Ladyes,  the  like  were  neuer  scene 
156    as  went  with  Sweet  Bessye  of  Bednall  greene. 


church? 


286 


After  the 

m  cirri  age 


comes  the 


BESSIE   OFF   BEDNALL. 


This  mairyage  being  solempnized  then 
Wft'th  musicke  perfourmed  by  the  skillfullest  men, 
the  Nobles  &  gentles  sate  downe  at  thai  tyde, 
160    each  one  beholding  the  beautifull  biyde. 


But  after  the  sumptuous  dinner  was  done, 
to  talke  &  to  reason  a  number  begunn 
of  the  blind  Beggars  daughter  most  bright, 
164    &  what  w^th  his  daughter  he  gaue  to  the  Knight. 


Then  spake  the  Nobles,  "  most  marueill  haue  wee, 
and  then  this  lolly  blind  begsrar  wee  cannott  here  see." 

the  Beggar 

is  asked  "my  LorcZ,"  said  the  Bride,  "  my  father  is  soe  base, 

1 68    he  is  loth  by  his  presence  these  states l  to  disgrace ; 


"  The  prayse  of  a  woman  in  questyon  to  bringe^ 
before  her  fface  heere,  were  a  flattering  thing." 
"wee  thinke  thy  fiathers  basenesse,"  q^oth  they, 


beauty  puts 

away  his        173    "  might  by  thy  bewtye  be  cleane  put  awaye." 


They  had  noe  sooner  these  pleasant  words  spoke, 
j^  jn  comes  the  beggar  cladd  in  a  silke  cote, 
a  yelluett  capp  and  a  ffether  had  hee, 
176    &  now  a  Musityan  fforsooth  hee  wold  bee  ; 


lethar 
comes  in 


And  being  led  in,  ffor  catching  of  harme  [page  279] 

with  a  lute,  he  had  a  daintye  Lute  vnder  his  arme, 

saies,  "  please  you  to  heare  any  Musicke  of  mee  ? 
180    He  sing  you  [a]  song  of  pretty  Bessye." 


With  that  his  lute  he  twanged  straight-  way, 
&  there  begann  most  sweetlye  to  play, 
&  after  a  lesson  was  playd  2  or  3  : 
184    he  strayned  on  this  song  most  delicatelye: 


1  Nobles.—  F. 


BESSIE    OFF   BEDNALL. 


287 


"  A  Beggars  daughter  did  dwell  on  [a]  greene, 
who  fFor  her  ffaire  might  well  be  a  queeno; 
a  blithe  bonny  Lasse,  &  daintye,  was  shee, 
188    &  many  a  one  called  her  pretty  Bessye." 

"  Her  ffather  hee  had  noe  goods  nor  noe  Lands, 
but  begd  l  for  a  penny  all  day  w^'th  his  hand[s] 
yett  to  her  marriage  hee  gaue  thousands  3  : 
192    &  still  he  hath  somewatt  for  pretty  Bessye  ; 


the  Beggar's 
daughter, 


Pretty 
Bessy, 


whose  father 
gave  her 


"  And  if  any  one  her  birth  doe  disdaine, 
her  ffather  is  ready  with  might  &  with  maine 
to  proove  shec  is  come  of  a  Noble  degree ; 
196    therfore  neuer  fflout  att  pretty  Bessye." 


and  can 
prove  she's 
of  noble 
birth. 


With  that  the  LorcZs  &  the  companye  round 
with  harty  Laughter  were  like  to  sound, 
att  last  said  the  LorJs,  "  full  well  wee  may  see, 
200    the  Bride  &  the  Beggar  is  behouldinge  to  thee." 


The  Lords 
laugh. 


With  that  the  Bride  all  blushing  did  rise 
with  the  salt  water  within  her  faire  eyes  : 
"  0  pardon  my  ffather,  graue  Nobles,"  q^oth  shee, 
204    "  that  thorrow  blind  affection  thus  doteth  on  mee." 


Bessy  begs 
them  to 
excuse  her 
father's 
praise  of  her. 


"  If  this  be  thy  ffather,"  the  2  noble [s]  did  say, 
"  well  may  he  be  proud  of  this  happy  day ; 
yett  by  his  countenaunce  well  may  wee  see, 
208    his  birth  &  his  ffortune  did  neuer  agree  ; 

"  And  therfor,  blind  man,  I  pray  thee  bewray, 
&  looke  that  the  truth  thou  to  vs  doe  say, 
thy  birth  &  thy  parentage,  what  itt  may  bee, 
212    euen  for  the  loue  thou  bearest  to  pretty  Bessye." 


The  Lords 
ask 


the  Blind 
Beggar  to 
confess  who 
he  really  is. 


— F. 


The  g  is  made  over  a  d  in  the  MS. 


2  The 
— F. 


is  made  over  a  g  in  the  MS. 


288 


BESSIE    OFF   BEDNALL. 


He  tells 
them. 


"  Then  giue  me  leaue,  yon  Grengells  1  eche  one, 
a  song  more  to  sing,  then  will  I  goe  on  ; 
&  if  that  itt  may  not  winn  good  report, 
216   then  doe  not  giue  me  a  groat  for  my  sport. 


With  King 
Henry, 


"  When  ffirst  our  King  his  ffame  did  Advance, 
&  fought  for  his  title  in  delicate  ffrance, 
in  many  a  place  many  perills  past  hee  : 
220    then  was  not  borne  my  pretty  Bessye. 


went  to 
France 
young 
Mountford. 


"  And  then  in  those  warres  went  over  to  fight 
many  a  braue  duke,  a  Lore?,  &  a  J£.nigM>t 
&  w^'th  them  younge  Mountford,  his  courage  most  free 
224    but  then  was  not  borne  my  pretty  Bessye. 


At  Blois  he 

was 

wounded, 


"  Att  Bloyes  there  chanced  a  terrible  day, 
where  many  braue  ffrenchmen  vpon  the  ground  Lay  ; 
amonge  them  Lay  Mountford  for  companye  : 
228    but  then  was  not  borne  my  pretty  Bessye. 


lost  both 
his  eyes, 
and  nearly 
his  life, 
but  for  a 
young 
woman 


who  saved 
him. 


Together 
they  begged ; 


came  to 
Beduall 
Greene, 


"  But  there  did  younge  Mountford,  by  blow  on  the 

face, 

loose  both  his  eyes  in  a  very  short  space  ; 
&  alsoe  his  liff'e  had  beene  gone  wtth  his  sight, 
232    had  not  a  younge  woman  come  forth  in  the  night 

"  Amongst  the  slaine  men,  as  fancy  did  moue, 
to  search  &  to  seeke  for  her  owne  true  loue ; 
&  seeing  young  Mountford  there  gasping  to  bee, 
236    shee  saued  his  liffe  through  charitye. 

"  And  then  all  our  vittalls,  in  Beggars  attire  [page  280] 
att  hands  of  good  people  wee  then  did  require, 
att  last  into  England,  as  now  it  is  seene, 
240    wee  came,  &  remained  att  Bednall  greene ; 


1  Gentles,— F. 


BESSIE    OFF    BEDNALL.  289 

"  And  thus  wee  haue  lined  in  ffortunes  despite, 
tho  l  poore,  yett  contented  with  humble  delight ; 
&  in  my  young  2  yeeres,  a  comfort  to  bee,  and  begot 

244    god  sent  mee  my  daughter,  pretty  Bessye.  Bessy. 

"  And  thus,  noble  Lords,  my  song  I  doe  end,  That's  the 

hoping  the  same  noe  man  doth  offend  ;  taS?™ 

full  40  winters  thus  I  haue  beene, 
248    a  silly  blind  beggar  of  Bednall  greene." 

Now  when  the  companye  euerye  one  The  Lords 

did  heare  the  strange  tale  in  the  song  he  had  show[n], 
they  were  all  amazed,  as  well  the  might  bee,  wonder. 

252    both  at  the  blind  beggar  &  pretty  Bessye. 

with  thai  he  did  the  fayre  bride  imbrace,  The  Beggar 

saying,  "  thou  art  come  of  an  hono?trablle  race  ;  S™063 

thy  ffather  likewise  of  a  highe  degree, 
256    &  thou  art  well  worthy  a  lady  to  bee !  " 

Thus  was  the  ffeast  ended  with.  loy  &  delight ; 
a  br[i]degrome  [blissful]  was  the  young  knight, 
who  lined  in  loy  &  felicitye  and  she  and 

260    with  his  ffaire  Ladye,  pretty  Bessye.  live  happily, 

ffins. 

1  MS.  the.— F.  2  ?  old.— F. 


290 


lug;})  : 

[His  great  atchievemewts  on  an  Embassy  to  franco. — P.] 

THIS  piece  is  now  printed  from  the  Folio  for  the  first  time. 
It  is  no  very  considerable  addition  to  English  literature.  It 
gives,  with  average  dulness,  a  ridiculously  bragging  account  of 
the  achievements  of  one  Sir  Hugh  Spencer  at  the  court  of 
France,  whither  he  was  dispatched  as  ambassador  —  a  truly 
Philistine  piece,  such  as  might  have  been  told  at  Grath  or 
published  at  Askalon.  There  does  not  seem  to  be  any  historical 
ground  for  it.  Not  even  the  most  triumphant  English  history 
of  England  contains  any  account  of  the  terrifying  a  French 
king  into  promises  of  peace  by  the  prowess  of  an  English 
ambassador,  as  here  happens  when  Spencer,  with  four  others, 
manages  to  kill  "  about  two  or  three  score  "  of  the  King's  guards 
(p.  295,  1.  134),  after  having  slain  "  13  or  14  score  on  a  previous 
occasion  (p.  294, 1.  122).  The  piece  is,  indeed,  nothing  better  than 
a  tissue  of  coarse  English  braggadocio.  An  English  "  old  hackney  " 
outvalues  any  one  of  a  French  knight's  war-steeds.  An  English 
staff  is  as  stout  as  three  French  spears  bound  together.  And  as 
for  an  English  man,  why  he  is  good  for  a  French  host.  What  a 
vulgar  Philistine  was  this  ballad-monger ! 


IHE  :  Court  is  kept  att  leene  London, 

&  euermore  shall  be  itt ; 

The  King  the  ~King  sent  for  a  bold  Embassador, 

Spencer  4         &  S^r  Hugh  Spencer  thai  he  hight. 

1  The  subject  of  this  Ballad  seems  to  be  all-together  fabulous. — P. 


HUGH    SPENCER. 


291 


"come  hither,  Spencer,"  saith  our  Kinge, 
"  &  come  thou  hither  vnto  mee, 

I  must  make  thee  an  Embassadour 
betweene  the  King  of  ffrance  &  mee. 


to  go  to  the 
King  of 
France, 


"  thou  must  comend  me  to  the  King  of  ffrance, 

&  tell  him  thus  &  now  ffrom  mee, 
'  I  wold  know  whether  there  shold  be  peace  in  his  land ,   and  ask  him 

whether  he's 

12         or  open  warr  kept  still  must  bee.'  for  peace  or 

war. 

"  thoust  haue  thy  shipp  at  thy  comande, 
thoust  neither  want  for  gold  nor  ffee, 
thoust  haue  a  100  armed  men 
16         all  att  thy  bidding  ffor  to  bee." 


they  l  wind  itt  serued,  &  they  sayled, 

&  towards  ffrance  thus  they  be  gone  ; 
they  l  wind  did  bring  them  safe  to  shore, 
20         &  safelye  Landed  euerye  one. 


Spencer  and 
his  men 


land  in 
France. 


the  ffrenchmen  lay  on  the  castle  wall  2 

the  English  souldiers  to  be-hold  : 
"  you  are  welcome,  traitors,  out  of  England  ; 
24         the  heads  of  you  are  bought  and  sold  !" 


The  French 


count  on 
their  heads. 


with  that  spake  proud  Spencer, 

"  my  leege,  soe  itt  may  not  bee  ! 
I  am  sent  an  Embassador 
28         ffrom  our  English  King  to  yee. 


Spencer  says 
he 


comes  from 
the  English 
King 


32 


"the  King  of  England  greetes  you  well, 

&  hath  sent  this  word  by  mee ; 

he  wold  know  whether  there  shold  be  peace  in  your     to  ask 
Land, 

or  open  warres  kept  still  must  bee." 


whether  it's 
to  be  peace 
or  war. 


the. — P.        2  There  is  a  tag  at  the  end  of  this  word  in  the  MS. — Jj1. 


292 


HUGH   SPENCER. 


War,  says 
the  French 
King; 


36 


"  Comend  me  to  the  English  Kinge, 

&  tell  this  now  ffrom  mee ; 
There  shall  neuer  peace  be  kept  in  my  Land    [page  281] 

while  open  warres  kept  there  may  bee." 


and  his 
Queen 


sneers  at 
him  for 
talking  to 
English 
traitors. 


40 


w^th  that  came  downe  the  Queene  of  ffrance, 
and  an  angry  woman  then  was  shee  ; 

saies,  "  itt  had  beene  as  ffitt  now  for  a  ~King 
to  be  in  his  chamber  w^th  his  ladye, 

then  to  be  pleading  w^th  traitors  out  of  England 
kneeling  low  vppon  their  knee." 


Spencer 


calls  her  a 
liar. 


But  then  bespake  him  proud  Spencer, 
44         for  noe  man  else  durst  speake  but  hee  : 
"you  haue  not  wiped  jour  mouth,  Madam, 
since  I  heard  you  tell  a  lye." 


She  dares 

him  to  fight 

her  knight.        48 


"  0  hold  thy  tounge,  Spencer  !  "  shee  said, 
"  I  doe  not  come  to  plead  with  thee ; 

darest  thou  ryde  a  course  of  warr 

w^th  a  knight  that  I  shall  put  to  thee  ?  " 


Spencer  says 
he  has 


neither 
armour  nor 


"  but  euer  alacke  !  "  then  Spencer  sayd, 
52         "  I  thinke  I  haue  deserued  gods  cursse ; 
ffor  I  haue  not  any  armour  heere, 
nor  yett  I  haue  noe  lusting  horsse." 


"  thy  shankes,"  q^oth  shee,  "  beneath  the  knee 


The  Queen 
tells  him  he's 

too  spindle-      55         are  verry  small  aboue  the  shinne 

shanked,  J 


ffor  to  doe  any  such  honour ablle  deeds 
as  the  Englishmen  say  thou  has  done. 


and  too 

small- 

thighed 

for  a 
jouster. 


"  thy  shankes  beene  small  aboue  thy  shoone, 
60         &  soe  the  beene  aboue  thy  knee  ; 
thou  art  to  slender  euery  way, 
any  good  luster  ffor  to  bee." 


HUGH    SPENCEK. 


293 


"but  euer  alacke,"  said  Spencer  then, 
64         "  for  one  steed  of  the  English  countrye  !  : 
with  that  bespake  &  one  ffrench  knight, 
"this  day  thoust  haue  the  Choyce  of  3  :  " 


A  French 
knight  offers 
him  one  of 

three  steeds  : 


the  first  steed  he  ffeiched  out, 
68         I-wis  he  was  milke  white. 

the  ffirst  ffoot  Spencer  in  stirropp  sett,1 
his  backe  did  from  his  belly  type.2 

the  2?  steed  thai  he  ffeitcht  out, 
72          I-wis3  that  hee  was  verry  Browne  ; 
the  2'.1  ffoot  Spencer  in  stirropp  settt, 
that  horsse  &  man  and  all  ffell  downe. 

the  3d  steed  that  hee  ffeitched  out, 
76         I-wis  that  he  was  verry  blacke  ; 

the  3?  ffoote  Spencer  into  the  stirropp  sett, 
he  leaped  on  to  the  geldings  backe. 

"but  euer  alacke,"  said  Spencer  then, 
80          "  for  one  good  steed  of  the  English  countrye  ! 
goe  ffeitch  me  hither  my  old  hacneye 

that  I  brought  with  me  hither  beyond  the  sea." 


1.  a  white 


(whose  back 
breaks?), 


2.  a  brown 


(who 

tumbles 

down), 


which 
Spencer 
jumps  on, 

but  soon 
calls  for  his 
old  English 
hack, 


but  when  his  hackney  there  was  brought, 
84          Spencer  a  merry  man  there  was  hee ; 

saies,  "  with  the  grace  of  god  &  St.  George  of  England,   and  bopes  to 


the  fFeild  this  day  shall  goe  with  mee  ! 


win  the 
fight  with 
him. 


"I  haue  not  fforgotten,"  Spencer  sayd, 
88         "  since  there  was  ffeild  foughten  att  walsingam, 
when  the  horsse  did  heare  the  trumpetts  sound, 
he  did  beare  ore  both  horsse  &  man." 


1  There  is  a  curl  between  the  e  and  t 
in  the  MS.— F. 

2  ?  MS.  tylpe,  with  the  I  crossed  at 
top :  no  doubt  for  fyte,  quickly,  or  Sc. 
tyte  to  snatch,  draw  suddenly,  Du.  tijden 


to  draw,  goe.  — F. 

3  As  the  /  wis  is  followed  by  that,  it 
may  mean  here  '  I  know,'  and  not  be  the 
adverb  '  certainly.' — F. 


294 


HUGH    SPEJNCER. 


The  joust 


the  day  was  sett,  &  togetther  they  mett 
92        w^th  great  mirth  &  melody e, 

w^'th  minstrells  playing  &  trumpetts  soundinge, 
w^'th  drumes  striking  loud  &  hye.  . 


the  ffirst  race  that  spencer  run, 
96        I-wis  hee  run  itt  wonder ous  sore ; 


Spencer 
breaks  his 
Trench  spear 
on  his 

opponent;  he  [hit]  the  knight  vpon  his  brest, 


asks  for  an 
English  one, 


and  bets  the 

Frenchman 

five  to  four      1 08 

he'll  beat 

him. 


So  they  joust 
again, 


and  Spencer 


unhorses  the 
knight, 


kills  about 
280  men, 


[page  282] 


but  his  speare  itt  burst,  &  wold  touch  noe  more. 

"  but  euer  alacke,"  said  Spencer  then, 
100        "for  one  staffe  of  the  English  countrye  ! 
without  youle  bind  me  3  together," 

q^oth  hee,  "  theyle  be  to  weake  ffor  mee." 

w^th  thai  bespake  him  the  ffrench  Knight, 
104        sayes,  "  bind  him  together  the  whole  30tye, 
for  I  haue  more  strenght  in  my  to  hands 
then  is  in  all  Spencers  bodye." 


"  but  proue  att  parting,"  spencer  sayes, 
"  ffrench  Knight,  here  I  tell  itt  thee, 

for  I  will  lay  thee  5  to  4 

the  bigger  man  I  proue  to  bee." 


but  the  day  was  sett,  &  together  they  mett 
112        w^th  great  mirth  &  melodye, 

with  minstrells  playing  &  trumpetts  soundinge, 
with  drummes  strikeing  loud  &  hye. 

the  2?  race  that  Spencer  run, 
116        I-wis  hee  ridd  itt  in  much  pride, 
&  he  hitt  the  Knight  vpon  the  brest, 
&  draue  him  ore  his  horsse  beside. 

but  he  run  thorrow  the  ffrench  campe  V 
120        such  a  race  was  neuer  run  beffore  ; 
he  killed  of  JLing  Charles  his  men 
att  hand  of  13  or  14  score. 


HUGH    SPENCER. 


295 


but  he  came  backe  againe  to  the  K[ing] 

124        &  kneeled  him  downe  vpon  his  knee,  andteiis 

saies,  "  a  knight  I  haue  slaine,  &  a  steed  I  haue  woone,   Charles  of 
the  best  thai  is  in  this  country e." 


"  but  nay,  by  my  faith,"  said  the 
128        "  Spencer,  soe  itt  shall  not  bee  ; 
He  haue  that  traitors  head  of  thine 
to  enter  plea  att  my  lollye." 


Charles  says 
he'll  have 
his  head. 


but  Spencer  looket  him  once  about ; 
132        he  had  true  bretheren  left  but  4: 
he  killed  ther  of l  the  "Kings  gard 
about  2  or  3  score. 


Spencer 
and  his  men 
kill  fifty  of 
the  King's 
Guard. 


"but  hold  thy  hands,"  the  "King  doth  say, 
136        "  Spencer  !  now  I  doe  pray  thee  ; 
&  I  will  goe  into  litle  England, 
vnto  that  cruell  Kinge  with  thee." 

"  Nay,  by  my  ffaith,"  Spencer  sayd, 
140        "  my  leege,  for  soe  itfc  shall  not  bee  ; 
for  on2  you  sett  3  ffoot  on  English  ground, 
you  shall  be  hanged  vpon  a  tree." 


Charles 
prays  him 
to  stop, 

and  offers 
to  go  to 
England. 


Spencer 
refuses  this. 


"  why  then,  comend  [me]  to  that  English  Kinge, 
144         &  tell  him  thus  now  ffrom  mee, 

that  there  shall  neucr  be  open  warres  kept  in  my  Land 
whilest  peace  kept  that  there  may  bee." 
ffins. 


Then 
Charles 
promises 
peace. 


MS.  therof.—  F.        2  on  =  an,  if. — F.         3  ?MS.  seitt  or  settt.— F. 


296 


Surge : 

THIS  Adler  may  be  the  same  with  that  one  who  appears  in  the 
ballad  of  King  Estmere.  As  that  ballad  narrates  the  marriage 
of  the  elder  brother  Estmere,  and  how  the  younger  Adler  as 
sisted  to  bring  it  about,  so  here  the  younger  brother's  wooing 
and  winning  are  described,  and  how  Estmere  promoted  them. 
Perhaps  the  lost  second  line  made  mention  of  Estmere.  There 
seems  to  be  an  error  in  the  eleventh  verse :  Estmere  there  should 
be  Ardine.  Both  brothers  are  somewhat  fastidious  in  their  con 
nubial  tastes.  "  I  know  not,"  says  Estmere  in  the  ballad  dedi 
cated  to  him  in  the  Reliques, 

"  I  know  not  that  ladye  in  any  lande 
That  is  able  to  marry  with  mee." 

And  here  Adler  insists  on  a  wife  silk-soft,  milk-white,  lithe  and 
lissome. 

In  this  ballad  the  comic  element  predominates.  The  narrative 
is  humorous,  and  so  is  the  narration.  The  piece  reads  like  a 
nursery  tale,  as  Mr.  Furnivall  suggests  in  the  note. 


King  Adler  KlNGrE  :  Adler,  as  hee  in  his  window  Lay, 

[unto  a  stranger  knight  he  did  say,] 
"  I  wold  my  lands  they  were  as  broada 
4     as  the  red  rose  is  in  my  garden  : 
describes  the          there  were  not  that  woman  this  day  aliue, 
wJStsf  I  kept  to  bee  my  wedded  wiffe, 

without  the  2  were  as  white  as  any  milke 
8     or  as  soft  as  any  silke, 

1  Poor  stuff. — P.     No  doubt  meant  for  a  nursery  tale. — F.  2  she. — F. 


KIXGE    ADLER. 


297 


&  they  royall  rich  wine  ran  downe  her  brest  bone, 

&  lord  !  shee  were  &  a  leath  1  maiden." 

"but  Estmere  our  King  has  a  daughter  soe  younge ; 
12     god  Lord  !   shees  as  soft  as  any  silke, 

&  as  white  as  any  milke, 

the  royall  rich  wine  runes  downe  her  brest  bone, 

&  lord  !  shee  is  a  leath  maiden." 
16     "  but  will  you  goe  vnto  King  Ardine, 

&  will  that  ffaire  Lady  that  shee  wilbe  mine  ?  " 

Hee  tooke  the  mood,  &  the  winde  was  good,    [page  283] 

vntill  hee  came  vnto  that  Kings  hall. 
20     he  grett  them  well  both  great  &  small : 

"  Kitige  Adler  hath  sent  me  hither  to  thee, 

&  wills  thy  ffayre  daughter,  shee  will  his  bee." 

he  sayes,  "  if  King  Adler  will  my  daughter  winne, 
24     of  another  manner  he  must  begin  : 

ifaith  he  shall  bring  Lords  to  the  Mold, 

100  Shippes  of  good  red  gold, 

100  Shippes  of  Ladyes  on  the  moure, 
28     100  Shippes  of  wheat  boulted  flower, 

100  Shippes  of  Ladyes  bright, 

100  Shippes  of  new  dubbd  knights. 

yett  he  shall  doe  that  is  more  pine, 
32     he  shall  take  the  salt  sea  &  turne  itt  to  red  wine ; 

when  hee  has  done  all  these  deeds, 

then  my  faire  daughter  shalbe  his  ; 

but  I  haue  sett  her  on  such  a  pinn,2 
36     King  Adler  shall  her  neuer  winne." 

he  tooke  the  flood,  &  they  wind  was  good, 

&  neuer  stayd  in  noe  stead 

vntill  he  came  to  Kinge  Adlers  hall. 
40     he  greeted  them  well  both  great  &  small, 


A  stranger 
says  his 
king  has  the 
d  i lighter  to 
suit  Adler. 


"Will  yon 
go  and  ask 
for  her,  for 
me?" 

The  man 
goes  and 
asks. 


King 

Estmere  or 
Ardine 

recounts 
what  slap- 
loads  of 
things  Adler 
must  first 
bring  him, 


and  then 
turn  the  sea 
to  red  wine. 


Adler's 
messenger 


1  Leath,  soft,  supple,  limber,  pliant, 
Denbighshire;     in     Halliwell's     Gloss. 
Lithe.— F. 

2  ?  high    point,    station,    or    '  fancy, 


humour,'  as  in  '  Each  sett  on  a  mery 
pin,'  Fryar  $  Boye,  1.  484,  Lo.  and  Hum. 
Songs,  p.  28. — F. 


VOL.  II. 


298 


KINGE   ADLEK. 


and  gives 
him 


King 

Estmere's 


the  ship 
loads  he's  to 
bring  him, 


and  then 
turn  the  sea 
into  wine. 


Adler  says 


they  must 
dress  him  as 
a  woman, 
and  take  him 
to  the 
Princess's 
court  to 
board  with 
her  ladies. 


His 
mess 
takes  him, 


and  tells 
Estmere  he 
has  brought 
a  lady  to 
board  among 
his  ladies. 


sales  "  I  haue  beene  att  yonder  "Kings  place 
to  speake  w^th  his  daughter  fayre  of  face  ; 
he  sayes,  if  you  will  his  daughter  winne, 

44    of  another  manner  you  must  begin  : 
you  must  bring  lords  to  the  mold, 
100  Shippes  of  good  redd  gold, 
100  Shippes  of  Ladyes  of  the  moure, 

48    100  Shippes  of  wheat  boulted  flower, 
100  Shippes  of  Ladyes  bright, 
100  Shippes  of  new  dubdd  knights  ; 
&  yett  you  must  doe  thai  is  more  pine, 

52    take  the  salt  sea  &  turne  it  to  red  wine  ; 
but  he  hath  sett  her  on  such  a  pinne 
that  you  can  her  neuer  winne." 
"  some  thing  you  must  doe  for  mee, 

56    I  tell  you  all  in  veretye  ; 

in  Ladyes  [clothes  *]  will  yee  mee  bowne, 
&  bring  mee  to  that  Ladyes  towne, 
&  boaird  me  there  one  yeere  or  towe 

60    amongst  those  Ladyes  for  to  2  goe, 
&  board  3  me  there  yeeres  2  or  3  : 
amongst  those  faire  Ladyes  for  to  bee." 
he  tooke  the  fflood,  &  the  wind  was  good, 

64    &  he  neuer  stayd  nor  stoode 

vntill  he  came  to  that  Ladyes  hall : 

he  greeted  them  well  both  great  &  small, 

sayes,  "heere  I  haue  brought  a  fayre  Ladye  ; 

68    from  her  owne  ffreinds  shee  is  comen  to  bee ; 
I  must  board  her  a  yeere  or  tow 
amongst  yo^r  Ladyes  for  to  goe." 
these  Ladyes  sate  all  on  a  rowe  ; 

72    some  began  to  cut  silke,  some  for  to  sowe  ; 


1  clothes,  qti. — P. 

2  a  K,  seemingly  marked  out,  stands 
between  to  and  goe. — F. 


3  Mr.  Gee,  in  his  Vocabulary  of  B. 
Words,  gives  board  v.  n.  lodge,  as  early  as 
1390  A.D.— F. 


KING      ADLER. 


299 


the  Kings  daughter  sayes,  "  your  ffingars  are  too 
great, 

or  else  jour  eyes  beene  out  of  seat, — 

I  tell  you  full  soone  anon, — 
76     to  sowe  silke  or  Lay  gold  on." 

but  ere  the  12  moneth  was  come  &  gone 

he  wan  the  farrest  Ladye  of  euerye  one. 

the  cast  the  lot,  &  one  by  one, 
80     &  all  the  Ladyes  euerye  one 

they  cast  it  ouer  2  or  3  : 

King  Adler  ffell  w/th  the  Kings  daughter  to  lye. 

but  when  they  were  in  bedd  Laid, 
84     these  words  vnto  her  then  hee  said ; 

saies,  "  Lady,  were  that  man  this  day  aliue 

that  you  wold  be  his  wedded  wifFe, 

&  were  that  man  soe  highlye  borne 
88     that  you  wold  be  his  hend  lemman  ?  " 

"  there  is  noe  man  this  day  aliue 

I  kept  to  be  his  wedded  wifie, 

without  itt  were  King  Adler,  hee, 
92     the  noblest  Knight  in  Christentye. 

my  father  hath  sett  me  on  such  a  pinne,1 

King  Adler  must  me  neuer  winne." 

*'  but,  Ladye,  how  &  2  soe  betyde 
96     King  Adler  were  in  your  bed  hidd  ? 

wold  you  not  call  them  all  att  a  stowre, 

none  of  the  Ladyes  within  yowr  bower  ? 

nor  wold  you  not  call  them  all  at  a  call, 
100     none  of  the  Lords  in  your  fathers  hall  ? 

nor  wold  you  not  call  them  all  by-deene, 

your  ffather  the  'King,  nor  your  mother  the  queene  ? 

but  soe  quickly  you  wold  gett  you  bowne, 
104     to  goe  with  King  Adler  out  of  the  towne  ?  " 

sais  shee,  "if  itt  wold  soe  betyde 

King  Adler  were  in  my  bed  hidd, 


The  Princess 
tolls  Adler 
his  fingers 
are  too  big. 


One  night 
they  cast 
lots  for  bed 
fellows, 


[page  284] 

and  Adler 
wins  the 
Princess. 


He  asks  her 
whom  she'd 
like  to 
marry. 


"  King 
Adler." 


"  Suppose  he 
were  in  your 
bed, 

would  you 
wake  up 
your  ladiea 


and  the 
King  and 
Queen,  or 
elope  with 
Adler?" 


1  MS.  pime.— F. 


2  an,  if.— F. 


x2 


300 


KINGE   ABLER. 


"  I  wouldn't 
call  up  my 
ladies, 


but  would 
go  off  with 
Adler." 


Adler 

discovers 

himself, 


carries  his 
love  off 
under  his 
arm,  and 
sails  away 
home. 


May  we  all 
prosper  till 
men  wed  so ! 


I  wold  not  call  them  all  in  stowre, 
108    none  of  the  Ladyes  in  my  bower ; 

nor  I  wold  not  call  them  all  att  a  call, 

none  of  the  Lords  in  my  fathers  hall ; 

nor  I  wold  not  call  them  all  by-deenee, 
112    my  ffather  the  King,  nor  my  mother  the  Queene  ; 

but  soe  quicklye  I  wold  gett  me  bowne 

to  goe  w^'th  King  Adler  out  of  the  towne." 

"  but  turne  thee,  Ladye,  hither  to  mee  ! 
116    for  I  am  the  K[ing]  that  speakes  to  thee !  " 

"alacke  !  ~King  Adler  !  I  shall  catch  cold, 

for  I  can  neuer  tread  on  the  mold, 

but  vpon  rich  cloth  of  gold 
120    that  is  5  thousand  fold." 

"peace,  faire  Lady  !  youst  catch  noe  harme,1 

for  I  will  carry  you  vnder  mine  arme." 

he  tooke  the  mood,  &  the  winde  was  good, 
124    &  he  neuer  stinted  nor  stood 

vntill  he  came  to  his  owne  hall ; 

he  greeted  them  well  both  great  &  small. 

god  send  vs  all  to  be  well,  &  none  to  be  woe, 
128    vntill  they  wine  their  true  loue  soe  ! 

ffins. 


1  harne  in  MS.— F. 


Down  the  left  margin  of  this  p.  284 
of  the  MS.  is  written  : 


iy  sweet  brother  sweet  Co 


Edward 


And  in  the  same  hand  are  written  on  the 
right  of  verse  3  of  "  Boy  and  Mantle " 
the  sam  and  f  henerey. — F. 


Swell 


Booke 


Elisabeth  Eeuell. 


301 


anii 

THIS  ballad  was  printed  by  Professor  Child  as  the  first  in  his 
English  and  Scottish  Ballads,  under  the  title  of  "  The  Boy  and 
the  Mantle,"  with  the  following  Introduction  :— 

No  incident  is  more  common  in  romantic  fiction,  than  the 
employment  of  some  magical  contrivance  as  a  test  of  conjugal 
fidelity,  or  of  constancy  in  love.  In  some  romances  of  the 
Round  Table,  and  tales  founded  upon  them,  this  experiment  is 
performed  by  means  either  of  an  enchanted  horn,  of  such  pro 
perties  that  no  dishonoured  husband  or  unfaithful  wife  can  drink 
from  it  without  spilling,  or  of  a  mantle  which  will  fit  none  but 
chaste  women.  The  earliest  known  instances  of  the  use  of 
these  ordeals  are  afforded  by  the  Lai  du  Corn,  by  Robert  Bikez, 
a  French  minstrel  of  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth  century,  and  the 
Fabliau  du  Mantel  Mauta'dle,  which,  in  the  opinion  of  a 
competent  critic,  dates  from  the  second  half  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  is  only  the  older  lay  worked  up  into  a  new  shape. 
(Wolf,  Ueber  die  Lais,  327,  sq.,  342,  sq.)  We  are  not  to 
suppose,  however,  that  either  of  these  pieces  presents  us  with 
the  primitive  form  of  this  humorous  invention.  Robert  Bikez 
tells  us  that  he  learned  his  story  from  an  abbot,  and  that 
"  noble  ecclesiast "  stood  but  one  further  back  in  a  line  of 
tradition  which  curiosity  will  never  follow  to  its  source.  We 
shall  content  ourselves  with  noticing  the  most  remarkable 
cases  of  the  use  of  these  and  similar  talismans  in  imaginative 
literature. 

In  the  Roman  de  Tristan,  a  composition  of  unknown  anti- 

1  This   seems    to  have  furnish'd  the      Lib.   4.   Cant.  2.   St.   25   seq.     Lib.   5. 
Hint  of  Florimel's  Girdle  to  Spencer.       Cant.  5. — P. 


302  BOY   AND    MANTLE. 

quity,  the  frailty  of  nearly  all  the  ladies  at  the  court  of  King 
Marc  is  exposed  by  their  essaying  a  draught  from  the  marvellous 
horn,  (see  the  English  Morte  Arthur,  Southey's  ed.  i.  297).  In 
the  Roman  de  Perceval,  the  knights,  as  well  as  the  ladies, 
undergo  this  probation.  From  some  one  of  the  chivalrous 
romances  Ariosto  adopted  the  wonderful  vessel  into  his  Orlando, 
(xlii.  102,  sq.,  xliii.  31,  sq.,)  and  upon  his  narrative  La  Fontaine 
founded  the  tale  and  the  comedy  of  La  Coupe  Enchantee.  In 
German,  we  have  two  versions  of  the  same  story, — one,  an 
episode  in  the  Krone  of  Heinrich  vom  Tiirlein,  thought  to  have 
been  borrowed  from  the  Perceval  of  Chretien  de  Troyes,  (Die 
Sage  vom  Zauberbecher,  in  Wolf,  Ueber  die  Lais,  378,)  a-nd 
another,  which  we  have  not  seen,  in  Bruns,  Beitrdge  zur  kriti- 
schen  Bearbeitung  alter  ffandschriften,  ii.  139;  while  in  English, 
it  is  represented  by  the  highly  amusing  "  bowrd,"  which  we  are 
about  to  print,  and  which  we  have  called  The  Horn  of  King 
Arthur.1  The  forms  of  the  tale  of  the  mantle  are  not  so 
numerous.  The  fabliau  already  mentioned  was  reduced  to 
prose  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  published  at  Lyons,  (in 
1577,)  as  Le  Manteau  mal  taille,  (Legrand's  Fabliaux,  3rd  ed. 
i.  126,)  and  under  this  title,  or  that  of  Le  Court  Mantel,  is  very 
well  known.  An  old  fragment  (Der  Mantel)  is  given  in  Haupt 
and  Hoffmann's  Altdeutsche  Blatter,  ii.  217,  and  the  story  is  also 
in  Bruns'  Beitrdge.  Lastly,  we  find  the  legends  of  the  horn  and 
the  mantle  united,  as  in  the  German  ballad  Die  Ausgleichung, 
(Des  Knaben  Wunderhorn,  i.  389,)  and  in  the  English  ballad  of 
The  Boy  and  the  Mantle,  where  a  magical  knife  is  added  to  the 
other  curiosities.  All  three  of  these,  by  the  way,  are  claimed  by 
the  Welsh  as  a  part  of  the  insignia  of  Ancient  Britain,  and  the 
special  property  of  Tegau  Eurvron,  the  wife  of  Caradog  with  the 
strong  arm.  (Jones,  Bardic  Museum,  p.  49.) 

In   other  departments  of   romance,  many  other    objects  are 

1  Child's  Ballads,  i.  17-27,  from  MS.  Ashmole  61,  fol.  59-62. 


BOY   AND    MANTLE.  303 

endowed  with  the  same  or  an  analogous  virtue.  In  Indian  and 
Persian  story,  the  test  of  innocence  is  a  red  lotus-flower ;  in 
Amadis,  a  garland,  which  fades  on  the  brow  of  the  unfaithful ; l 
in  Perceforest,  a  rose.  The  Lay  of  the. Rose  in  Perceforest  is 
the  original  (according  to  Schmidt)  of  the  much-praised  tale  of 
Senece,  Camille,  ou  la  Maniere  de  filer  le  parfait  Amour, 
(1695), — in  which  a  magician  presents  a  jealous  husband  with 
a  portrait  in  wax,  that  will  indicate  by  change  of  colour  the 
infidelity  of  his  wife, — and  suggested  the  same  device  in  the 
twenty-first  novel  of  Bandello,  (Part  First,)  on  the  translation 
of  which  in  Painter's  Palace  of  Pleasure,  (vol.  ii.  No.  28,) 
Massinger  founded  his  play  of  The  Picture.  Again,  in  the  tale 
of  Zeyn  Alasman  and  the  King  of  the  Genii,  in  the  Arabian 
Nights,  the  means  of  proof  is  a  mirror,  that  reflects  only  the 
image  of  a  spotless  maiden;  in  that  of  the  carpenter  and  the 
king's  daughter,  in  the  Gesta  Romanorum,  (c.  69,)  a  shirt, 
which  remains  clean  and  whole  as  long  as  both  parties  are  true  ; 
in  Palmerin  of  England,  a  cup  of  tears,  which  becomes  dark  in 
the  hands  of  an  inconstant  lover;  in  the  Fairy  Queen,  the 
famous  girdle  of  Florimel ;  in  Horn  and  Rimnild  (Ritson, 
Metrical  Romances,  iii.  301,)  as  well  as  in  one  or  two  ballads  in 
this  collection  [ed.  Child],  the  stone  of  a  ring ;  in  a  German  ballad, 
Die  Krone  der  Konigin  von  Afion,  (Erlach,  Volkslieder  der  Deut- 
schen,  i.  132,)  a  golden  crown,  that  will  fit  the  head  of  no  incon 
tinent  husband.  Without  pretending  to  exhaust  the  subject,  we 
may  add  three  instances  of  a  different  kind :  the  Valley  in  the 
romance  of  Lancelot,  which  being  entered  by  a  faithless  lover 


1  So   also   in   the   well-told   story  of  The  chaplett  wolle  hold  hewe ; 

The  Wright's  Chaste  Wife  (E.  E.  T.  Soc.  And  yf  thy  wyfe  vse  putry, 

1865)  a  garland  is  the  test :  Or  tolle  eny  man  to  lye  her  by, 

Haue  here  thys  garlond  of  roses  ryche,  Then  wolle  yt  change  hewe  ; 

In  all*  thys  lond  ys  none  yt  lyche ;  £nd  {j7  the  garlond  >ou  may  see, 

For  ytt  wylle  euer  be  newe  Fekyllc  or  fals  yf  J;at  sche  be, 

(Wete  J>ou  wele  vftAowtyn  fable,)  Or  ellJs  yf  6che  **  trewe. 
All*  the  whyle  thy  wyfe  ys  stable 


304  BOY   AND    MANTLE. 

would  hold  him  imprisoned  forever  ;  the  Cave  in  Amadis  of 
Gaul,  from  which  the  disloyal  were  driven  by  torrents  of  flame  ; 
and  the  Well  in  Horn  and  Rimnild,  (ibid.)  which  was  to  show 
the  shadow  of  Horn,  if  he  proved  false. 

In  conclusion,  we  will  barely  allude  to  the  singular  anecdote 
related  by  Herodotus,  (ii.  Ill,)  of  Phero,  the  son  of  Sesostris,  in 
which  the  experience  of  King  Marc  and  King  Arthur  is  so 
curiously  anticipated.  In  the  early  ages,  as  Dunlop  has  re- 
marked,  some  experiment  for  ascertaining  the  fidelity  of  women, 
in  defect  of  evidence,  seems  really  to  have  been  resorted  to. 
"By  the  Levitical  law,"  (Numbers  v.  11—31,)  continues  that 
accurate  writer,  "  there  was  prescribed  a  mode  of  trial,  which 
consisted  in  the  suspected  person  drinking  water  in  the  taber 
nacle.  The  mythological  fable  of  the  trial  by  the  Stygian  foun 
tain,  which  disgraced  the  guilty  by  the  waters  rising  so  as  to 
cover  the  laurel  wreath  of  the  unchaste  female  who  dared  the 
examination,  probably  had  its  origin  in  some  of  the  early  institu 
tions  of  Greece  or  Egypt.  Hence  the  notion  was  adopted  in  the 
Greek  romances,  the  heroines  of  which  were  invariably  subjected 
to  a  magical  test  of  this  nature,  which  is  one  of  the  few  particulars 
in  which  any  similarity  of  incident  can  be  traced  between  the 
Greek  novels  and  the  romances  of  chivalry."  See  DUNLOP, 
History  of  Fiction,  London,  1814,  i.  239,  sq.  ;  LEGKAND,  Fab 
liaux,  3d  ed.,  i.  149,  sq.,  161  ;  SCHMIDT,  Jahrbucher  der  Litera- 
tur,  xxix.  121  ;  WOLF,  Ueber  die  Lais,  174-177;  and,  above  all, 
GRAESSE'S  Sagenkreise  des  Mittelalters,  185,  sq. 

The  Boy  and  the  Mantle  was  [said  to  be]  "  printed  verbatim  " 
from  the  Percy  MS.,  in  the  Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry, 
iii.  38. 


A  boy  comes  IN  the  third  day  of  May, 

to  Carlisle  ,      ~      ,    .,      ,  .  _ 

to  Carleile  did  come 
a  kind  curteons  child 
4          that  cold  much  of  wisdome. 


BOY    AND    MANTLE. 


305 


a  kirtle  &  a  Mantle 
this  Child  had  vppon, 

with  branches  l  and  ringes, 
full  richelye  bedone. 


richly 
dressed  and 
jewelled. 


12 


he  had  a  sute  of  silke 

about  his  middle  drawne  ; 

without  he  cold  2  of  curtesye, 
he  thought  itt  much  shame. 


"  god  speed  thee,  King  Arthur, 

sitting  att  thy  meate ! 
&  the  goodlye  Queene  Gueneuer! 
16          I  canott  her  fforgett. 


He  greets 
Arthur 


and 

G  uenevere, 


"  I  tell  you  Lords  in  this  hall, 

I  hett  you  all  heate,3 
except  you  be  the  more  surer 
20         is  you  for  to  dread." 


[page  285] 


he  plucked  out  of  his  potewer,4 

&  longer  wold  not  dwell, 
he  pulled  forth  a  pretty  mantle 
24         betweene  2  nut-shells. 


and  pulls 
out  of  his 
bag 

a  mantle 


"  haue  thou  here  King  Arthure, 

haue  thou  heere  of  mee  ; 
giue  itt  to  thy  comely  queene 
28         shapen  as  itt  is  alreadye  ; 


•which  he 
tells  Arthur 


to  give  to 
Guenevere. 


"  itt  shall  neue>-  become  that  wiffe 

that  hath  once  done  amisse." 
then  euery  Knight  in  the  Kings  court 
32         began  to  care  for  his  wifie.5 


1  Brooches. — P.    ?  MS.  branches. — F. 

2  knew.— F. 

3  heed,  qu.— P.    heede.— Bel.     hete, 
a  promise. — F. 

4  See  pag.  382,  ver.  98  [poteuere  in 


Sir  Degree.]—?,     poterver.— Pd.     The 
first  syllable  must  be  porte,  carry. — F. 

5  began  to  care  for  his. — P.     ?  care  in 
MS.— F 


306 


BOY  AND   MANTLE. 


Guenevere  forth  came  dame  Gueneuer ; 

takes  it.  to  the  mantle  shee  her  biled  l  : 

the  Ladye  shee  was  new  fangle,2 
36         but  yett  shee  was  affrayd. 

when  shee  had  taken  the  Mantle, 

shee  stoode  as  she  had  beene  madd 
it  was  from  the  top  to  the  toe 
40         as  sheeres  had  itt  shread.3 


It  tears  in 
two, 


and  changes 
colour. 


Arthur 
thinks  she  is 
not  true. 


one  while  was  itt  gaule,4 

another  while  was  itt  greene, 
another  while  was  itt  wadded, — 
44         ill  itt  did  her  beseeme, — 

another  while  was  it  blacke 

&  bore  the  worst  hue. 
"by  my  troth,"  q^oth  K.ing  Arthur, 
48         "  I  thinke  thou  be  not  true." 


Guenevere 


rushes  off 
blushing, 


curses  the 
mantle- 
maker 


and  the 
child, 


and  says 
she'd  rather 
be  in  a  wood 
than 
shamed. 


shee  threw  downe  the  mantle 

thai  bright  was  of  blee.5 
fast  w^th  a  rudd  6  redd 
52         to  her  chamber  can  shee  flee ; 

shee  curst  the  weauer  &  the  walker  7 

that  clothe  thai  had  wrought, 
&  bade  a  vengeance  on  his  crowne 
56         thai  hither  hath  itt  brought ; 

"  I  had  rather  be  in  a  wood 

vnder  a  greene  tree, 
then  in  K.ing  Arthurs  court 
60         shamed  for  to  bee." 


1  Query  the  le  in  the  MS.— F.     hied. 
— Eel. 

2  new  fangle  is  fond  of  a  new  thing, 
catching  at  novelties,  ab.  A.-S.  fangan, 
apprehendere,    capere,    corripere,    hinc 
fang,  Gloss,  ad  G.  D.— P. 


i.  e.  divided. — P. 
gule,  qu. — P.    red. — F. 
colour,     complexion,      bleoh — idem, 
Saxon.— P. 

Complexion. — P. 

Fuller,  Jun.— P.  A.-S.  wealcere.—T?. 


BOY   AND   MANTLE. 


307 


Kay  called  forth  his  ladye, 
&  bade  her  come  neere  ; 
sales,  "  madam,  &  thou  be  guiltye, 
64         I  pray  thee  hold  thee  there." 

forth  came  his  Ladye 

shortlye  &  anon ; 
boldlye  to  the  Mantle 
G8         then  is  shee  gone. 


Kay  calls 
forth  his 
wife. 


She  tries  the 
mantle, 


when  she  had  tane  the  Mantle 

&  cast  it  her  about, 
then  was  shee  bare 
72         all  aboue  the  Buttocckes.1 


but  it  leaves 
her  buttocks 
bare.  . 


then  cuery  Knight 

thai  was  in  the  Kings  court 
talked,  laug[h]ed,  &  showted, 
76         full  oft  att  that  sport. 


shee  threw  downe  the  mantle 

that  bright  was  of  blee  : 
ffast  with  a  red  rudd 
80         to  her  chamber  can  shee  flee. 


She  runs  off 
with  a  red 
face. 


forth  came  an  old  ~K.night 
pattering  2  ore  a  creede, 
&  he  p?'oferred  to  this  litle  boy 
84         20  markes  to  his  meede, 

&  all  the  time  of  the  Christmasse 

willignglye  to  fieede  ; 
for  why  this  Mantle  might 
88          doe  his  wiffe  some  need. 


An  old 
knight  offers 
the  boy  a 
reward 


to  try  it  on 
his  wife. 


1  Before  all  the  rout. — Ed. 

2  patter,  obscuro  murmure  hutnilibus 
que  susurris  hypocritarum  instar,  coram 
populo  preculas  fundere — Junius.    They 


say  in  Shropshire  to  pather,  i.  e.  to  make 
a  noise,  as  when  one  rubs  the  feet 
agaiwst  the  ground,  &  scratches. — P. 


308 


BOY   AND   MANTLE. 


She  takes  it, 


and  has  only 
a  tassel  and 
thread  on 


92 


When  shee  had  tane  the  mantle 

of  cloth  thai  was  made, 
shee  had  no  more  left  on  her 

but  a  tassell  &  a  threed. 
then  euery  ~Knighi  in  the  ~K.ings  court 

bade  "  euill  might  shee  speed." 


[page  286] 


She  rushes 
off  shamed. 


shee  threw  downe  the  Mantle 
96         thai  bright  was  of  blee, 
&  fast  w*'th  a  redd  rudd 

to  her  chamber  can  shee  flee. 


Craddock 
tells  his  wife 
to  try 


Craddocke  called  forth  his  Ladye, 
100         &  bade  her  come  in ; 

saith,  "  winne  this  mantle,  Ladye, 
w^th  a  litle  dinne  : 


and  win  the 
mantle. 


"  winne  this  mantle,  Ladye, 
104         &  it  shalbe  thine 

if  thou  neuer  did  amisse 
since  thou  wast  mine." 


she  comes,  forth  came  Craddockes  Ladye 

108         shortlye  &  anon, 

but  boldlye  to  the  Mantle 
then  is  shee  gone. 


puts  it  on ; 


it  begins  to 
crinkle  up. 


when  shee  had  tane  the  mantle 
112         &  cast  itt  her  about, 

vpp  att  her  great  toe 

itt  began  to  crinkle  l  &  crowt ; 

shee  said  "  bo  we  downe,  Mantle, 
116         &  shame  me  not  for  nought ; 


1  to  crinkle,  to  go  in  &  out,  to  run  in       — P.     Grout,  a  variant  of  crowd,  to  draw 
flexures  ;  from  krinckelen  Belg.  Johnson.       close  together. — F. 


BOY   AND    MANTLE. 

"  once  I  did  amisse, 

I  tell  you  certainlye, 
when  I  kist  Craddockes  mouth 
120         Vnder  a  greene  tree, 

when  I  kist  Craddockes  mouth 

before  he  marryed  mee." 

when  shee  had  her  shreeuen,1 
124         &  her  sines  shee  had  tolde, 
the  mantle  stoode  about  her 
right  as  shee  wold, 

seemelye  of  coulour, 
128         glittering  like  gold. 

then  euery  Knight  in  Arthurs  court 
did  her  behold. 


309 

She  confesses 


that  she 

kissed 

Craddock 


before  he 
married  her. 


The  mantle 
uncrinkles. 


clothes  her, 


and  glitters 
like  gold. 


then  spake  dame  Gueneuer 
132         to  Arthur  our  King, 

"  she  hath  tane  yonder  mantle, 

not  with  wright2  but  with  wronge  ! 

"  see  you  not  yonder  woman 
136         that  maketh  her  selfe  soe  cleare  3  ? 
I  haue  seene  tane  out  of  her  bedd 
of  men  fiueteeene, 

"  Preists,  Clarkes,  &  wedded  men 
140         from  her  by-deene  ! 

yett  shee  taketh  the  mantle 
&  maketh  her-selfe  cleane  !  " 


Guenevere 


maligns 

Craddock's 

wife, 


says  she  has 
seen  fifteen 
men  taken 
out  of  her 
bed. 


then  spake  the  litle  boy 
144         that  kept  the  mantle  in  hold  ; 
sayes  "  King  !  Chasten  thy  wiffe  ! 
of  her  words  shee  is  to  bold. 


The  Boy 


tells  Arthur 
to  restrain 
his  wife, 


1  i.  e.  confessed :  shrive,  fateri,  confi- 
teri.    Hinc  shrovetide.     Jun. — P. 


2  right.— P. 
*  cleane. — P. 


310 


BOY   AND   MANTLE. 


who  is  a 
whore, 


and  has 

cuckolded 

him. 


"  shee  is  a  bitch  &  a  witch, 
148         &  a  whore  bold  ! 

King,  in  thine  owne  hall 
thon  art  a  Cuchold!  " 


The  Boy  sees 
a  boar ; 


A  litle  boy l  stoode 
152  •      looking  oner  a  dore  ; 

he  was  ware  of  a  wyld  bore  2 
wold  haue  werryed  a  man. 


runs  out,cuta 
off  its  head. 


he  pulld  forth  a  wood  kniffe  ; 
156         fast  thither  thai  he  ran ; 
he  brought  in  the  bores  head, 
&  quitted  him  like  a  man. 


brings  it 
in, 


and  says  no 
cuckold 
can  cut  it. 


he  brought  in  the  bores  head, 
160         and  was  wonderous  bold  : 

He  said,  "  there  was  neuer  a  Cucholds    [page  287] 

kniffe 
carue  itt  that  cold." 


Some 
knights 


throw  their 

knives 

away; 


some  rubbed  their  k[n]iues 
164         vppon  a  whetstone ; 

some  threw  them  vnder  the  table, 
&  said  they  had  none. 


others  try, 
but  can't  cut 
it. 


King  Arthus  &  the  Child 
168         stood  looking  them  vpon  3 ; 
all  their  k[n]iues  edges 
turned  backe  againe. 


Craddock 
cuts  up  the 


Craddoccke  had  a  litle  kniue 
172         of  Iron  &  of  steele  ; 

he  birtled4  the  bores  head 


1  The  little  boy.— P. 
8  And  there  as  he  was  looking 
He  was  ware  of  a  wyld  Bore. 

Qu.-P. 


8  upon  them,  Qu. — P. 

*  birtled,  or  britled.— P.  A.-S.  bryt- 
tian,  to  divide  into  fragments,  distribute. 
— F. 


BOY   AND    MANTLE. 


311 


176 


wonderous  weele, 

thai  eueiy  Knight  in  the  Kings  court 
had  a  xnorssell. 


ISO 


the  litle  boy  had  a  home 
of  red  gold  that  ronge  ; 

he  said,  "  there  was  noe  Cuckolde 
shall  drinke  of  my  home, 

but  he  shold  itt  sheede 
Either  behind  orbeforne." 


The  Boy 
says  no 
cuckold  can 
drink  out  of 
his  horn 
without 
spilling. 


some  shedd  on  their  shoulder, 
184         &  some  l  on  their  knee  ; 

he  that  cold  not  hitt  his  mouth 
put  it  in  his  eye ; 

&  he  that  was  a  Cuckold, 
188         euery  man  might  him  see. 

Craddoccke  wan  the  home 

&  the  bores  head ; 
his  ladye  wan  the  mantle 
192         vnto  her  meede. 

Euerye  such  a  louely  Ladye, 

God  send  her  well  to  speede ! 


Many  try, 


ffins. 


but 

Craddock 
alone  can 
doit. 


God  bless 
lading  like 
Craddock's 
wifel 


sone  in  the  MS. — F. 


I""  When  as  I  doe  reccord"  printed  in  Lo.  and  Hum.  Songs, 
p.  68-9,  follows  here  in  the  M8.~\ 


312 


itt  rose  &  rrtr : l 

[Page  288  of  MS.] 

THIS  is  but  a  pedestrian  composition,  being  nothing  more  than 
a  passage  of  a  dull  and  not  very  accurate  history  of  England 
turned  into  yet  duller  and  as  inaccurate  verse.  It  was  written, 
or  perhaps  was  revised  and  added  to,  after  1619,  as  the  Queen  of 
James  L,  Anne  of  Denmark,  is  spoken  of  as  dead  and  gone 
(v.  198),  and  she  died  in  that  year.  The  principal  hero  is 
Henry  VI L,  who  is  pronounced  a  paragon  of  virtue,  and  inter 
alia  a  most  faithful  and  affectionate  husband.  De  mortuis  nil 
nisi  bonum,  has  been  the  poetaster's  motto ;  or  rather  De  Tudore 
mortuo  nil  nisi  optimum.  The  piece  may  have  had  its  use  in 
aiding  and  abetting  the  memories  of  the  common  people.  Books 
were  not  yet  so  cheap  and  plentiful  but  that  artificial  memory- 
helps  were  welcome.  The  ballad  form  was  in  extreme  requisition 
and  popularity  for  all  manners  of  subjects  in  the  first  half  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  Everything  was  be-balladed. 


in  the  wars  WlTEN  yorke  &  Lancaster  made  warre 

of  the  Eoses  .  T 

w^thm  this  ffamous  Land, 
the  Hues  of  all  our  Noble  men 
4         did  in  great  danger  stand. 


many  7  Kmgs  in  bloodye  ffeilde 

kings  were 

left  heMess,  ffbr  Englands  crowne  did  flight, 

&  yett  their  heyres  were,  all  but  twaine, 
8         of  liffe  bereaued  quite. 


1  In   the   printed  Collection    of    Old       Written   or    recast  in  James  I.'s  time: 
Ballads,  1726,  Vol.  2.  p.  206,  N.  xv.— P.       see  lines  78,  149.— F. 


12 


WHITE   ROSE   AND    RED. 


ther  30000  Englishmen 
were  in  one  battell  slaine ; 

yett  all  thai  English  blood  cold  not 
one  setled  peace  obtaine. 


313 


and  30,000 
lives 


secured  no 
peace. 


father[s]  killed  their  owne  deare  sonnc, 

the  sonnes  the  ffathers  slew, 
&  kinsmen  ffought  against  their  ILing, 
16         &  none  eche  other  knew. 


att  Lenght,  by  Heneryes  Lawfull  claime,1 

these  wasting  warres  had  end, 
for  England s  peace  he  did  restore, 
20         &  did  the  same  defend. 


But  Henry 
VII. 


ffor  tyrant  Richard  named  the  3d., 

the  breeder  of  this  woe, 
by  him  was  slaine  nere  Leister  towne, 
24         as  chronicles  doe  shoe. 


slewKichard 
III. 


all  ffeare  of  warr  was  then  Exiled, 
•which  Toyed  eche  Englishman  ; 
&  dayes  of  long  desired  peace 
28         within  this  Land  began. 


and  brought 
peace 


to  the  land. 


he  ruled  this  kingdome  by  true  loue, 

to  gaine  his  subiects  Hues  ; 

then  men  liued  quietly  att  home 

.32         wtth  their  children  &  their  wiues. 


'King  Henery  tooke  such  princely  care 

our  ffurther  peace  to  frame, 
tooke  ffaire  Elizabeth  to  wiffe,2 
36         that  gallant  yorkshire  dame. 


Henry 


married 


1  One  stroke  of  the  m  is  wanting  in  the  MS. — F.     2  See  Ladye  Bessiye  in  vol.  iii. F. 

VOL.  II.  T 


314 


WHITE   ROSE   AND    RED. 


York's 


40 


4  Edwardes  daughter,  blest  of  god, 
to  scape  king  Edwards  l  spight, 

was  thus  made  Englands  peereles  Queene, 
&  Heneryes  hartes  delight. 


this  Henery,  ffirst  of  Tuders  name 
*  &  last  of  Lancaster, 

w^th  Yorkes  right  heyre  a  true  loues  knott 
44         did  knitt  &  make  ffast  there. 


the  White 
Rose  bedded 
with  the 
Bed; 


renowned  yorke,  the  white  rose  gaue  ; 

braue  Lancaster  the  redd  ; 
by  wedlocke  both  inoyned  were 
48         to  lye  in  one  princely  bed. 


and  they  are 
a  badge  in 
the  Royal 
Arms. 


May  they 
flourish 
still  I 


these  roses  grew,  &  buded  fayre, 

&  w^th  soe  good  a  grace, 
that  ~K.ings  of  Engl[a]nd  in  their  armes  2 
52         affords  a  worthy  place. 

&  fflourish  may  these  roses  still, 
that  all  they  world  may  tell ! 
the  owners  of  these  princely  mowers 
56         in  vertue  to  Exell ! 


To  glorifye  these  roses  more, 
king  henerye  &  his  Queene 
did  place  their  pictures  in  red  gold, 
60         most  gorgeous  to  be  seene. 


[page  289] 


The  King's 
G-uard  wear 


the  "Kings  owne  guard  doe  weare  them  now 

vpon  their  backe  &  brest, 
where  loue  &  loyaltye  remaines, 
64          &  euermore  may  rest. 


1  That  is,  Kichard's. — Adams. 

2  The  Ked  and  White  Eoses  never 
were,    strictly  speaking,   in  the  Koyal 


Arms,  but  were  and  are  a  badge  borne 
with  them. — Gr.  E.  Adams,  Rouge  Dragon. 


WHITE    ROSE   AND    RED 


315 


the  red  rose  on  the  backe  is  placed, 

theron  a  crowne  of  gold  ; 
the  wh[i]te  rose  on  the  brest  as  rich, 
68         and  castlye  l  to  behold, 

bedecket  "with  siluer  studdes, 
&  coates  of  scarlett  &  redd, 
a  blushing  hew,  which  Englands  fame 
72         this  many  yeeres  hath  spredd. 

this  Tudor  &  Plantaginett 
these  honors  ffirst  devised 

to  welcome  home  a  settled  peace 
by  vs  soe  dearlye  prized  : 


7G 


80 


84 


which  peace  now  maintained  is 
by  lames  our  gracyous  Kinge  ; 

ffor  peace  brings  plentye  to  this  Land, 
with  many  a  blessed  thing. 

to  speake  of  Heneryes  praise  againe  : 

his  princley  liberall  hand 
gaue  giufts  &  graces  many  wayes 

vnto  this  ffamous  Land. 


wherfore  the  Lord  him  blessing  sent 

for  to  encrease  his  store, 
for  that  he  left  more  welthe  to  vs 
88         then  any  King  before. 

the  ffirst  blessing  was  to  his  Queene, 

a  giuft  aboue  the  rest, 

which  brought  him  sonnes  &  daughters  faire 
92         to  make  his  Kingdome  blest. 

the  royall  blood,  which  was  att  Ebbe, 

soe  encreased  by  this  Queene, 
that  Englands  heyre  vnto  this  day 
96         doth  flourish  ffresh  &  greene. 

1  costlye. — F. 

T2 


the 

on  their 

backs, 

the  White 
on  their 


on  their 

scarlet 

coats, 


in  honour  of 
peace  so 
prized 


(which 
James 
preserves). 


Henry  gave 
liberally, 


and  the  Lord 
blest  him, 


with  sons 

and 

daughters 


(whose  line 

continues 

now). 


316 


WHITE    ROSE   AND   RED. 


His  heir, 
Arthur 
prince  of 
Wales, 
sailed  to 
Spain 


100 


the  first  blossome  of  this  seed 
was  Arthur,  Prince  of  wales, 

whose  vertue  to  the  Spanish  court 
quite  ore  the  Ocean  sayles, 


and  married 
Ferdinand's 
daughter 
Katherine, 


where  fferdinando,  King  of  Spayne, 

his  daughter  Katherine  gaue 
ffor  wiffe  vnto  this  English  Prince 
104         a  thing  which  god  wold  haue. 


but  died 
young, 
(April  1502,) 


yett  Arthur,  in  his  loftye  youth 

&  blooming  time  of  age, 
resigned  vp  his  sweetest  lifie 
108         to  deathes  imperyall  rage. 


to  England's 
grief. 


who  dying  thus,  noe  Isue  left, — 

the  sweet  of  natures  Toy, — 
did  compasse  England  round  with 
112         &  Spaine  with  sadd  annoye. 


But  Henry 
VII.  had 
another  boy, 

Henry  VIII., 


yett  Henery,  to  increase  his  Toy, 

a  Henery  of  his  name, 
in  ffollowing  time  8  Henery  called,1 
116         a  king  of  worthy  ffame ; 


who 

conquered 
French 
towns, 


he  Conquered  Bullein  w*th  his  sword, 

&  many  townes  of  ffrance  ; 
his  kinglye  manhood  &  his  fortitude 
120         did  Englands  ffame  advance. 


put  down 
Papistry, 


then  Popish  Abbyes  he  supprest, 

&  Pappistrye  put  downe, 
&  bound  their  Land  by  Parlaiment 
124         vnto  his  royall  crowne. 


1  The  d  is  made  over  an  I  in  the  MS. — F. 


WHITE    EOSE   AND    RED. 


317 


128 


he  had  3  Children  by  3  Queenes, 
all  Princes  raigning  here, 

Edward,  Marry,  &  Elizabeth, 
A  Queene  beloued  most  deere. 


and  had 
three 
children, 
who  all 
reigned, 


[page  290] 


yett  these  3  branches  bare  noe  fruite ; 

noe  such  blessing  god  did  send ; 
wherby  the  King  by  Tudors  name 
132         in  England  here  hath  end. 


lint  left  no 


Plantaginett  ffirst  Tudor  was 

named  Elizabeth ; 
Ellizabeth  Last  Tudor  was, 
136         the  greatest  Queene  on  Earth. 


The  first  and 
last  Tudors 
were 
Elizabeths. 


This  Tudor  &  Plantaginett, 

by  yeelding  vnto  death, 

haue  made  steward  now  the  greates[t]  King 
140         thai  is  now  vpon  the  earth. 


A  Stewart 
now  reigns. 


to  speake  of  the  7  Henery  I  must, 
whose  grace  gaue  ffree  consent 
to  haue  his  daughters  marryed  both 
144         to  kings  of  his  descent. 


Henry  VII. 


married  his 
eldest 
daughter  to 


his  Eldest  daughter  Margarett 

was  made  great  Scottlands  Queene, 
as  wise,  as  ffaire,  as  vertuous, 
148         as  euer1  was  Ladye  seene. 


the  King  of 
Scotland, 


of  this  faire  Queene  our  royall  King 

by  Lineall  course  descended, 
which  weareth  now  the  Imperyall  crown  e, 
152         which,  god  now  still  defendeth. 


and  James 
is  her 


Only  one  stroke  for  the  u  in  the  MS. — F. 


318 


WHITE    ROSE   AND    RED. 


Henry's 

second 

daughter 

first 

married  the 

King  of 

France, 


and  then  the 
Duke  of 

Suffolk. 


Henry  VII. 
and  his 
Queen 
rejoiced ; 


but  the 
Queen 


proved  with 
child, 


went  to  the 
Tower  of 
London, 


and  died 
there 


in  childbed. 


his  second  daughter,  Marye  called, 

as  Princelye  by  degree, 
was  by  her  ffather  worthy  thought 
156         the  Queene  of  ffrance  to  bee  ; 

&  after  to  the  Duke  of  Suffollke 

was  made  a  Noble  wiffe ; 
&  in  this  ffamous  English  court 
160         shee  led  a  virtuous  liffe. 

thus  Henery  &  his  louely  Queene 

reioced  to  see  that  day, 
to  haue  their  Children  thus  advancet 
164         to  honors  euery  way, 

which  purchased  pleasure  &  content 

w^th  many  a  yeeres  delight, 
till  sad  mischance  by  cruell  death 
168         procured  them  both  a  spighte. 

this  worthy  Queene,  this  gracyous  dame, 

this  mother  meeke  and  mild, 
to  add  more  number  to  their  loyes, 
172         againe  proued  bigg  w^th  child  ; 

wheratt  the  ~K.ing  reioced  much, 
&  against  that  carefull  hower 
he  lodged  his  deere  &  louelye  Queene 
176         in  Londons  stately  Tower. 

which  Tower  proued  ffatall  once 

to  Princes  of  degree ; 
itt  proued  ffatall  to  this  Queene, 
180         for  therin  died  shee, 

in  Child  bed  [she]  lost  he[r]  sweet  liffe, 

her  liffe  estemed  soe  deere, 
which  had  beene  Englands  Louely  Queene 
184         many  a  happy  yeere. 


WHITE   ROSE   AND   RED. 


319 


therfore  the  King  was  greened  sore, 

&  many  monthes  did  mourne, 
&  wept  &  sighet,  &  said  "  like  her 
1 88         he  cold  not  ffind  ont  one  ; 


Henry 
mourned, 


"  nor  none  he  wold  in  ffancy  chuse 

to  make  his  wedded  wiffe, 
but  a  widdower  he  wold  remaine 
192         the  remnant  of  his  liffe." 


and  vowed 


to  remain  a 
widower. 


his  latter  dayes  he  spent  in  peace 

&  quiettnesse  of  mind, 
like  'King  &  Qucene  as  these  2  were, 
196         the  world  can  hardlye  ffind  ! 

yett  such  a  King  as  now  wee  haue, 

&  such  a  Queene  wee  had, 
who  hath  heauenly  powers  from  aboue, 
200         &  giusts  !  as  the  2  hadd. 

God  saue  our  Prince,  &  King  &  Land, 

&  send  them  long  to  raigine  ! 
in  health,  in  welth,  in  quietnesse, 
204         amongst  vs  to  remaine !  ffins. 


Two  like 
these  can 
scarce  be 
found. 


God  bless 
our  King 
and  land  1 


?  ghosts,  spirits ;  or  miswritten  for  giufts. — F. 


320 


mp 

THE  Folio  version  of  this  song  is  here  printed  in  its  integrity  for 
the  first  time ;  for  in  the  copy  given  in  the  Reliques,  "  the 
corruptions  "  «  are  removed  by  the  assistance  of  the  Scottish  edi 
tion  " — that  in  Eamsay's  Tea-Table  Miscellany.  Our  readers  will 
not  be  sorry  to  see  these  "  corruptions."  They  give,  indeed,  a 
somewhat  different  turn  to  the  piece.  Whereas  in  the  ordinary 
version,  the  temptation  against  which  the  good  man  is  warned 
is  vaguely  "  pride,"  it  takes  in  the  Folio  MS.  a  more  definite 
shape.  He  is  tempted  to  abandon  his  agricultural  life  and  turn 
courtier.  He  vows  : 

I'll  go  find  the  court  within, 

I'll  no  longer  lend  nor  borrow, 
I'll  go  find  the  court  within, 

For  I'll  have  a  new  cloak  about  me. 

Bell,  his  wife,  rejoins  : 

— good  husband,  follow  my  counsel  now : 
Forsake  the  court  and  follow  the  plough. 
Man,  take  thy  old  coat  about  thee. 

This  definiteness  inclines  us  to  believe  that  this  version  is  older 
than  the  current  one.  The  poem  naturally  grew  vaguer  as  it 
grew  generally  popular. 

That   it   enjoyed  an    extensive   popularity  is   shown  by  the 
appearance  of  one  of  its  verses  in  Othello,  and  the  delight  with 

1  This  Song  is  in  Ramsay's  Tea-table  This  seems  to  have  been  strip'd  of  its 

Miscellany,  p.  105,  [1753].    The  printed  Scottisms  by  some  English  hand:  wAz'ch 

copy  is  much  better  than  this,  if  it  has  is   observable   of    some    other    in    this 

not  had   some    modern   Improvements.  Collection. — P. 


BELL   MY   WIFFE.  321 

which  Cassio  hears  lago  troll  it  out.  "  *  Fore  God,  an  excellent 
song,"  says  the  lieutenant  of  ((  And  let  the  canakin  clink,  clink;" 
and  of  "  King  Stephen  was  a  worthy  peer,"  "  Why,  this  is  a  more 
exquisite  song  than  the  other." 

The  dialect  in  which  it  is  written,  and  the  general  cha 
racter  of  the  piece — its  scenery,  its  economy,  its  canniness 
—  clearly  imply  a  northern  origin.  As  to  the  time  at 
which  it  was  written,  all  that  can  be  said  is,  that  it  clearly 
reflects  an  age  of  social  disturbance  and  alteration — an  age 
growing  "  so  picked  that  the  toe  of  the  peasant  comes  so 
near  the  heel  of  the  courtier  he  galls  his  kibe."  The  piece  is 
something  more  than  a  mere  humorous  domestic  altercation  as 
to  the  replenishing  of  a  husband's  wardrobe.  It  is,  in  fact,  a 
controversy  between  the  spirits  of  Social  Revolution  and  Social 
Conservatism.  The  man  is  anxious  to  better  himself,  no  longer 
content  to  tend  cows  and  drive  the  plough ;  his  neighbours  are 
rising  and  advancing  around  him ;  the  clown  is  not  now  distin 
guishable  from  the  gentleman.  The  old  arrangements  have  had 
their  day.  Metaphorically,  the  old  scarlet  cloak,  which  some 
four-and-forty  years  ago  was  so  satisfactory,  and  kept  out  so 
well  the  wind  and  rain,  is  now  but  a  "  sorry  clout,"  looks  right 
mean  and  shabby  among  the  spruce  black,  green,  yellow,  blue 
garments  that  flaunt  around  it,  and  must  certainly  be  cast  off 
for  something  new  and  fashionable.  In  answer  to  all  these 
grumblings,  the  other  reminds  him  how  well  their  old  life  has 
suited  them,  how  their  employments  (though  humble)  have  been 
sufficient  'for  their  needs,  how  they  have  lived  and  loved  to 
gether  for  many  a  long  year  and  been  blessed  with  many 
children  and  the  happiness  of  seeing  them  grow  up  in  the 
nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,  how  Royalty  had  contented 
itself  with  the  smallest  of  tailor's  bills  and  yet  thought  that 
excessive,  and,  generally,  how  pride  undermines  a  country.  Her 
advice  is,  that  he  should  not  disquiet  himself  with  efforts  to  rise 


322  BELL   MY   WIFFE. 

in  the  world,  but  should  rest  content  with  the  state  wherein  he 
is.  The  goodman,  weary  of  controversy,  lets  his  wife's  counsel 
prevail.  He  sees,  in  the  version  now  given  (the  ordinary  form 
of  the  last  verse  is  much  less  striking),  what  his  wife  cannot 
see — that  is,  how  times  have  altered ;  but  he  consents  to  acqui 
esce  in  his  present  position — Ofja-a-av  Tpdir^av  alvscrai — 

0  Bell  my  wife !  why  dost  thou  flyte  ? 

Now  is  now,  and  then  was  then ; 
We  will  live  now  obedient  life, 

Thou  the  woman  and  I  the  man. 
It's  not  for  a  man  with  a  woman  to  threap 

Unless  he  first  gives  over  the  plea. 
We  will  live  now  as  we  began, 

And  I'll  have  mine  old  cloak  about  me. 

As  to  the  author,  nothing  is  known.  Undoubtedly  he  was  one 
who  had  noted  the  signs  of  his  times.  He  would  seem  to 
have  sympathised  with  those  who  regarded  the  social  changes 
transpiring  as  dangerous  and  to  be  deprecated.  To  us  he  is  a 
mere  voice  crying. 


"THIS 

&ffro: 
&  Boreas  blowes  his  blasts  soe  bold 


it  freezes  1HIS  winters  weather  itt  waxeth  cold,         [page29i] 

&  ffrost  itt  ffreeseth  on  euery  hill, 


cattle  are        4          thai  all  our  cattell  are  like  to  spill. 
Bell *  my  wiffe,  shee  2  loues  noe  strife. 

My  wife  J 

Ben  says  she  sayd  vnto  my  quietlye,3 

"  Get  up  and 

save  the  «  rise  Vp  &  saiie  Cow  crumbockes  liffe  ! 

cow  s  life. 

Put  your  old     8          man  i  put  thine  old  cloake  about  thee  !  ' 

cloak  on." 

«  steady,  4  "  0  Bell  my  wiffe  !  why  dost  thou  fflyte  5  ? 

wife.    My  -,      i       •  1 1  • 

cloak's  very  thou  kens  my  cloake  is  verry  thin ; 

old, 

1  Then  [Bell]. — P.  seems  necessary  to  support  the  dialogue. 

2  who.— P.    "  —P. 

3  to  me  right  hastily. — P.  6  A.-S.  flitan,  to  strive,  quarrel. — F. 

4  This  stanza  not  in  print: — and  yet 


BELL   MY    WIFFE. 


323 


itt  is  soe  sore  oner  worne, 
12          a  cricke  l  theron  cannott  runn  : 

He  goe  ffind  the  court  within, 
He  noe  longer  lend  nor  borrow  ; 

He  goe  ffind  tho  court 2  within, 
16          for  He  haue  a  new  cloake  about  me." 


I  shall  get  a 
new  one." 


"  Cow  Crumbocke  is  a  very  good  cowe, 

shee  has  alwayes  beene  good  to  the  pale, 
shee  has  helpt  vs  to  butter  &  cheese,  I  trow, 
20          &  other  things  shee  will  not  fayle  ; 
for  I  wold  be  loth  to  see  her  pine ; 

therfore,  good  husband,  ffollow  my  councell  now, 
forsake  the  court  &  follow  the  ploughe ; 
24          man !  take  thine  old  coate  about  thee  !  " 

3  "  My  cloake  itt  was  a  verry  good  cloake, 
it  hath  beene  alwayes  good  to  the  weare, 
itt  hath  cost  mee  many  a  groat, 
28          I  have  had  itt  this  44  yeere  ; 

sometime  itt  was  of  the  cloth  in  graine,4 

itt  is  now  but  a  sigh  5  clout,  as  you  may  see ; 
It  will  neither  hold  out  winde  nor  raine  ; 
32          &  He  haue  a  new  kloake  6  about  mee." 


"  The  cow's 
a  good  cow, 


don't  let  he 
die; 


put  your 
old  coat  on.' 


"I've  had  my 
cloak  forty- 
four  years, 


and  mean  to 
get  a  new 
one." 


"  It  is  44  yeeres  agoe 

since  the  one  of  vs  the  other  did  ken, 
&  wee  haue  had  betwixt  vs  both, 
36          children  either  nine  or  ten  ; 


"  Yes,  we've 
been 
together 
forty-four 


1  Cricke,  most  probably  an  old  word 
for  a  louse.  Jamieson.  Compare  the 
description  of  Avarice  in  Langlande's 
Vision  of  Piers  Ploughman,  Passus  V. 
1.  107-113,  p.  58,  Vernon  Text,  ed.  Skeat: 

fenne  com  Couetyse  .  .  . 
In  A  toren  Tabert  of  twelue  "Wynter  Age. 
But  3if  a  lous  cou£e  lepe,  I  con  hit  not 
I-leue 


Heo  scholde  wandre  on  J>at  walk,  hit 
was  so  {^red-bare. — F. 

2  Only  half  the  u  in  the  MS. — F. 

3  This  Stanza  is  very  different  from 
that  in  print. — P. 

4  Fr.  Cramoisi:    m.  crimson   colour. 
Sot  en  cramoisi.      An  Asse  in  graine. 
Cotgrave.— F. 

5  ?  sorry,  miserable. — F. 

6  ?  a  c  made  over  the  first  k  in  the 
MS.— F. 


324 


BELL   MY   WIFFE. 


and  brought 
ten  children 
up. 

Don't  be 
proud  ;  put 
your  old 
cloak  on." 


"  Old  times 
are  old  ;  all 
people  dress 
fine  now, 


and  I'll  have 
a  new  cloak 
too." 


wee  haue  brought  them  vp  to  women  &  men 

in  the  feare  of  god  I  trow  they  bee  ; 
&  why  wilt  thou  thy  selfe  misken  ? 
40          man  !  take  thine  old  cloake  about  thee !  " 

"  0  Bell  my  wiffe  !  why  doest  thou  flyte  ? 

now  is  nowe,  &  then  was  then ; 
seeke  all  the  world  now  throughout, 
44          thou  kens  not  Clownes  from  gentlemen ; 

they  are  cladd  in  blacke,  greene,  yellow,  &  blew,1 

soe  ffarr  aboue  their  owne  degree  ; 
once  in  my  liffe  He  take  a  vew,2 
48          ffor  He  haue  a  new  cloake  about  mee." 


"  King 
Harry 
thought  his 
breeches  too 
dear  at  5s. 


Don't  be 
proud  ;  put 
your  old 
cloak  on." 


"  Well,  it's 
no  good 


for  a  man  to 
dispute  with 
his  wife. 


I  will  put  my 
old  cloak 
on." 


"  King  Harry  was  a  verry  good  "K[mg  ;] 

I  trow  his  hose  cost  but  a  Crowne  ; 
he  thought  them  12*  ouer  to  deere, 
52          therfore  he  called  the  taylor  Clowne. 
he  was  King  &  wore  the  Crowne, 

&  thouse  but  of  a  low  degree  ; 
itts  pride  thai  putts  this  cumtrye  downe ; 
56          man  !  put  thye  old  Cloake  about  thee  ! 

3  "  0  Bell  my  wiffe  !  why  dost  thou  fflyte  ? 

now  is  now,  &  then  was  then ; 
wee  will  Hue  now  obedyent  liffe, 
60          thou  the  woman,  &  I  the  man. 

itts  not  ffor  a  man  w^th  a  woman  to  threape  4 

vnlesse  he  ffirst  giue  ouer  the  play ; 
wee  will  Hue  noue  5  as  wee  began, 
64          and  lie  haue  mine  old  Cloake  abaut  me." 
ffins. 


1  Some  letter  marked  out  following  the 
b  in  the  MS.— F. 

2  ?  MS.  tew,  a  rope  (or  line)  :   Nares. 
I'll  give  myself  some  rope,  license. — F. 

3  Different  from  the  print :  as  indeed 


is  almost  every  Line  of  the  whole. — P. 

4  A.-S.  \>rcapian,  to  threap,  reprove, 
afflict.  Bosworth.— F. 

6  ?  MS.  ' none '  for  ' on'.— F.  Better 
'  now ' ;  compare  1.  58,  59. — H. 


325 


5  It'ue  toftm :  I  loue : 

THE  affected,  strained  style  of  this  piece  tells  pretty  clearly  to 
what  period  it  belongs.  "True  conceit  be  still  my  feeding," 
says  the  lover ;  so  evidently  says  this  author  too.  His  is  the 
CITS  ostentandi  artem. 


W ITH  my  hart  my  loue  was  nesled  1 
into  the  sonne  of  happynesse  ;  2 

ffrom  my  lone  my  liffe  was  rested  3 
into  a  world  of  heauinesse  ; 

0  lett  my  loue  my  liffe  remaine,4 

since  I  loue  not  where  I  wold.5 


[page  292] 


I  was  happy 
with  my 
love,  and 
then  was 
torn  from 
her. 


Darksome  distance  doth  devyde  vs, 
ffarr  ffrom  thee  I  must  remaine  ; 

dismall  planetts  still  doth  6  guide  vs, 
ffearing  wee  shold  meete  againe  ; 

but  ffroward  ffortune  once  remoued,7 

then  will  I  liue  where  I  wold.8 


We  are  apart 
now, 


but  Fortune 
may  change, 
and  join  us. 


16 


Iff  I  send  them,  doe  not  suspect  mee  ; 

but  if  I  come,  then  am  I  seene ; 
0  let  thy  wisdome  9  soe  direct  mee 

thai  I  may  blind  Argus  eyen  ! 
for  my  true  hart  shall  neuer  remou[e,] 
tho  I  liue  not  where  I  loue. 


Do  not 
suspect  me, 


though  I  am 
away  from 
you. 


1  Read  nested,  to  rhyme  with  rested. 
— Skeat. 

2  In  a  summe  of  happinesse. — P. 

3  wrested.— F. 

4  0  let  me  soon  from  life  remove. — P. 


5  Since  I  live  not  where  I  love. — P. 
Since    I    live    not  where  I  would 

faine. — H. 

6  do.— P.  7  remove P. 

"love.— P.  9  MS.wisdone.— F. 


326 


I   LIUE   WHERE    I    LOUE. 


What  grief 
have  I 
suffered ! 


Sweete !  what  greeffe  hane  I  sustained 
20          in  the  accomplishing  my  desires  !  * 

my  affections  are  not  ffained, 
tho  my  wish  be  nere  the  nere.2 

if  wishes  wold  snbstantiall  prone, 
24      then  wold  I  line  where  I  lone. 


With 
bleeding 
heart,  I  pray 


to  be  with 
thee  again. 


28 


Trne  conceit  be  still  my  feeding, 
&  the  ffood  being  soe  3  conceipted, 

whilest  my  hart  for  thee  lyes  bleeding, 
snnne  &  heanens  to  be  intreated ; 

perhaps  my  orisons  then  may  mone, 

thai  I  may  line  where  I  lone. 


When 
heaven 
grants  this, 


we'll  smile 
at  past 
troubles. 


Lone  &  ffaction  still  agreeing, 
32          by  the  consent  of  heauens  electyon, 

where  wee  both  may  hane  onr  being, 
vnderneath  the  heanens  protectyon, 

&  smiling  att  onr  sorrowes  past, 
36      wee  shall  enioye  4  onr  wishe  att  Last. 


ffins. 


1  To  accomplish  my  desire. — P. 

2  nigher. — P. 

3  After  this  is  written  contented,  with 


the  tente  only  marked  out,  then  follows 
ceipted. — F. 

4  may  enjoy. — P. 


32; 


:  Bntvitto  : l 

THIS  touching  ballad  is  unhappily  somewhat  imperfect  in  parts  ; 
and  we  have  not  met  with  any  copy  elsewhere,  with  which  it 
might  be  collated. 

The  story  would  be  too  painful  and  disgusting  to  read,  but  for 
the  extreme  gentleness  of  the  poor  sadly  abused  lady.  This, 
while  it  aggravates  our  loathing  of  the  monster  whose  prey  she 
became,  and  makes  her  wrongs  the  more  hideous,  yet  renders  the 
tale  tolerable.  That  gleam  of  light  reconciles  our  eyes  to  the 
Stygian  darkness.  Otherwise  it  would  be  too  horrible.  We 
could  not  endure  even  to  read  of  such  a  fiend  as  he  who  appears 
in  it. 

This  atrocious  ruffian  is  apparently  a  Scotchman  (so  his  name 
seems  to  imply,  and  vv.  69,  92),  who  concludes  a  moonlight 
meeting  with  a  fond,  weak,  credulous  woman  by  deliberately 
robbing  her,  not  only  of  her  father's  gold  which  she  had  fetched 
at  his  request,  but  of  every  article  of  dress  she  had  on,  in  spite 
of  her  piteous  pleadings,  and  this  with  brutal  declarations  that 
the  spoil  is  intended  for  his  own  lady  who  dwells  in  a  far 
country,  till  at  last  remains  to  her  only  such  covering  as  nature 
gave — her  long  flowing  hair.  Then  he  gives  the  poor  wretched 
creature  the  choice  of  dying  there  and  then  on  his  sword's  point, 
or  going  home  as  she  was.  She  goes  home,  to  be  greeted  by  her 
father's  curse,  and  die  of  a  broken  heart  at  his  door.  The  story 
is  too  frightful  to  be  told  as  a  reality ;  it  is  told  as  a  dream. 

1  Shewing  his  disloyalty  to  an  Earl's  daughter.  This  Song  in  some  Places  is 
imperfect. — P. 


328 


YOUNGE   ANDREW. 


I  dreamt  of 

young 

Andrew. 


A  lady  tells 
him  she's 
loved  him 
longv 


He  kisses 
her. 


She  reminds 
him  of  his 
promise  to 
inarri1  her. 


He  says  he'll 

do  it 

if  she  brings 

him  her 

father's 

gold. 


She  gets  her 


father's  500Z. 
and  jewels, 


them  to 

young 

Andrew. 


,      AS :  I  was  cast  in  my  first  sleepe, 

a  dreadffull  draught l  in  my  mind  I  drew ; 
ffor  I  was  dreamed  of  one  2  yong  man, 
4          some  men  called  him  yonge  Andrew. 

the  moone  shone  bright,  &  itt  cast  a  ffayre  light ; 
sayes  shee,  "  welcome,  my  honey,  my  hart,  &  my 

sweete  ! 

for  I  haue  loued  thee  this  7  long  yeere, 
8         &  our  chance  itt  was  wee  cold  neuer  meete." 

then  he  tooke  her  in  his  armes  2, 
&  k[i]ssed  her  both  cheeke  &  chin  ; 

6  2s.e  or  Bs.e  he  pleased  this  may  3 

1 2          before  they  tow  did  part  in  twinn  ; 

saies,  "  now,  good  Sir,  yon  haue  had  jour  will, 

you  can  demand  no  more  of  mee  ; 
Good  S^r,  Remember  what  you  said  before,4 
16          &  goe  to  the  church  &  marry  mee." 

"  ffaire  maid,  I  cannott  doe  as  I  wold  ; 
[Till  I  am  got  to  my  own  country  5] 
goe  home  &  fett  6  thy  fathers  redd  gold, 
20          &  lie  goe  to  the  church  &  marry  thee." 

this  Ladye  is  gone  to  her  ffathers  hall, 
&  well  she  knew  where  his  red  gold  Lay, 

7  and  counted  fforth  5  hundred  pound 
24         besides  all  other  luells  &  chaines, 

&  brought  itt  all  to  younge  Andrew  ; 
itt  was  well  counted  vpon  his  knee, 
then  he  tooke  her  by  the  Lillye  white  hand, 
28          &  led  her  vp  to  one  8  hill  soe  hye  ; 


1  sketch,  picture. —  F. 

2  a.-P. 

3  maid.— P. 

4  you  swore. — P. 


5  Percy's  line. — F. 

6  fet.  Via.  fol.  514.  Note.— P. 

7  she.— P. 

8  a.— P. 


YOUNGE   ANDREW.  329 

shee  had  vpon  l  a  gowne  of  blacke  veluett ; — 

a  pittyffull  sight  after  yee  shall  see  ; — 

"  put  of  thy  clothes,  bonny  wenche,"  he  sayes,  He  makes 

32          "  for  noe  ffoote  further  thoust  gang  with  mee." 

but  then  shee  put  of  her  gowne  of  veluett  2  her  velvet 

3  with  many  a  salt  teare  from  her  eye, 
And  in  a  kirtle  of  ffine  4  breaden  silke  [page  293] 

36         shee  stood  beffore  young  Andrews  eye. 

sais,  "  o  put  off5  thy  kirtle  of  silke  ; 

ffor  some  &  all  shall  goe  with  mee : 
&  to  my  owne  Lady  I  must  itt  beare, 
40         who6  I  must  needs  loue  better  then  thee." 

then  shee  put  of  her  kirtle  of  silke  her  silken 

with  7  many  a  salt  teare  still  ffrom  her  eye  ;  klrtle' 

in  a  peticoate  of  scarlett  redd  her  scarlet 
44         shee  stood  before  young  Andrewes  eye. 

saies,  "  o  put  of5  thy  peticoate  ; 

for  some  &  all  of  itt  shall  goe  w*'th  mee  ; 
&  to  my  owne  Lady  I  will  itt  beare, 
48          which  dwells  soe  ffarr  in  a  strange  countryc." 

but  then  shee  put  of  her  peticoate  petticoat, 

w^th  many  a  salt  teare  still  from  her  eve :  her  white 

l    '  1*1,  VM.       "ii  silk  smock 

&  in  a  smocke  01  braue  white  silke 
52         shee  stood  before  young  Andrews  eye. 

saies,  "  o  put  of  5  thy  smocke  of  silke ; 

for  some  &  all  shall  goe  with  mee  ; 
•vnto  my  owne  Ladye  I  will  it  beare, 
56         that  dwells  soe  fiarr  in  a  strange  country e." 

1  vp  bracketted  for  omission  by  P.         braided. —  F. 

2  velvet  gown. — P.  5  Put  off,  put  off. — P. 
*  while  many  .  .  .  ran. — P.  6  whom. — P. 

4  a  fine  kirtle. — P.      ?  breaden,          7  while  ....  ran  from.— P. 

VOL.  II.  Z 


330 


YOUNGE   ANDREW. 


(though  she 
prays  to  keep 
it), 


sayes,1  "  o  remember,  young  Andrew  ! 

once  of  a  woman  yon  were  borne ; 
&  fibr  thai  birth  thai  Marye  bore, 
GO         I  pray  yon  let  my  smocke  be  vpon  !  " 


"  yes,  ffayre  Ladye,  I  know  itt  well ; 

once  of  a  woman  I  was  borne  ; 
yett  ffor  noe  birth  thai  Mary  bore, 
64         thy  smocke  shall  not  be  left  here  vpon." 


and  her  head 
dress. 


Then  he  asks 
her  whether 


she'll  die  on 
his  sword  or 
go  naked 
home. 


She  chooses 


walking 
naked  home, 

but  warns 
young 

Andrew  that 
her  father 
will  hang 
him  if  he 
catches  him, 


and  her 
brothers  will 
take  his  life. 


but  then  shee  put  of  her  head  geere  ffine  ; 

shee  hadd  billaments  2  worth  a  100"  ; 
the  hayre  thai  was  vpon  this  bony  wench  head,3 
68         couered  her  bodye  downe  to  the  ground. 

then  he  pulled  forth  a  Scottish  brand, 

&  held  itt  there  in  his  owne  right  hand  ;  4 
saies,   "whether  wilt  thou  dye   vpon   my   swords 

point,  Ladye, 
72         or  thow  wilt  5  goe  naked  home  againe  ?  " 

"  my  liffe  is  sweet,  then  Sir,"  said  shee, 

"  therfore  I  pray  you  leaue  mee  wiih  mine  ; 
before  I  wold  dye  on  yo^r  swords  point, 
76         I  had  rather  goe  naked  home  againe. 

"my  fiather,"  shee  sayes,  " is  a  right  good  Erie 

as  any  remaines  in  his  countrye ; 
if  euer  he  doe  yowr  body  take, 
80         jour  sure  to  mower  a  gallow  tree ; 

"  &  I  haue  7  brethren,"  shee  sayes,6 

"  &  they  are  all  hardy  men  &  bold  ; 
giff  euer  the  doe  yo^r  body  take, 
84         you  must  neuer  gang  quicke  oner  the  mold." 


1  she  sayes. — P. 

2  habilliments,  dress,  cloaths. — P. 

3  but  .  .  .  upon  her  head. — P. 


4  And  there  he  held  it  forth  amaine. 
— P.  5  wilt  thou.— P. 

6  And  seven  brethren  I  have  she  says. 
—P. 


YOUNGE   ANDREW. 


331 


"  if  your  ffather  be  a  right  good  Erie 

as  any  remaines  in  his  owne  countrye, 
tush  !  he  shall  neuer  my  body  take, 
88         He  gang  soe  ffast  ouer  l  the  sea  ! 

"if  you  haue  7  brethren,"  he  sayes, 

"  if  they  be  neuer  soe  hardy  or  bold  ; 
tush  !  they  shall  neuer  my  body  take  ; 
92         He  gang  soe  ffast  into  the  Scottish  mold  ! 


Young 
Andrew  says 
he'll 


sail  from  her 
father, 


and  take 
refuge  in 
Scotland 
from  her 
brothers. 


Now  this  Ladye  is  gone  to  her  fathers  hall 

when  euery  body  their  rest  did  take  ; 
but  the  Erie  which  was  her  ffather  [dear]  2 
96          lay  waken  for  his  deere  daughters  sake. 


The  lady 
goes  home, 


"  but  who  is  thai,"  her  ffather  can  say,3 

"  that  soe  priuilye  knowes  that  pinn  4  ?  " 
"  its  Hellen,  jour  owne  deere  daughter,  ffather  5  ! 
100         I  pray  you  rise  and  lett  me  in." 


her  father 
hears  her, 


6  "noe,  by  my  hood7  !  "  quoth  her  ffather  then, 
"  my  [house]  thoust 8  neuer  come  within, 
without  I  had  my  red  gold  againe." 


but  won't  let 
her  in  till 
she  brings 
back  his 
gold. 


104     "  nay,  your  gold  is  gone,  ffather  !  "  said  shee.' 
"  then  naked  thou  came  into  this  world, 
and  naked  thou  shalt  returne  againe." 


"nay !  god  fforgaue  his  death,  father  !  "  shee  sayes, 
108         "  &  soe  I  hope  you  will  doe  mee." 
"  away,  away,  thou  cursed  woman ! 

"  I  pray  god  an  ill  death  thou  may  dye !  "  [page  294] 


She  says  it's 


1  hence  o're. — P. 

2  dear.— P. 

3  to  say.— P. 

4  pinn.     Compare  vol.  i.  p.  249, 1.  38, 
he  thirled  vpon  a  pinn? — F. 

8  here.— P. 


8  0  no,  0  no,  I  will  not  rise.— P. 

7  Eood.— P. 

8  my  House  thou. — P. 

9  0  pardon,  pardon  me,  she  says, 
For  all  your  red  gold  it  is  taen. — P. 


z2 


332 


YOUNGE   ANDREW. 


Her  heart 
bursts,  and 
she  falls 
dead. 


shee  stood  soe  long  quacking  on  the  ground 
112         till l  her  hart  itt  burst 2  in  three, 

&  then  shee  ffell  dead  downe  in  a  swoond ; 
&  this  was  the  end  of  this  bonny  Ladye. 


In  the 

morning  her 
father 


corpse. 


ithe  morning  when  her  ffather  gott 3  vpp, 
116         a  pittyffull  sight  there  he  might  see  4  ; 

his  owne  deere  daughter  was  dead5  without6  Clothes ! 
they  teares  they  trickeled  fast  ffrom  his  eye ; 


He  curses 
his  love  of 
gold, 


sais,  "  fye  of  gold,  and  ffye  of  ffee  !  7 
120         for  I  sett  soe  much  by  my  red  gold 

thai  now  itt  hath  lost  both  my  daughter  and  mee  ! " 


and  fades  as 
a  flower  in 
frost. 


but  after  8  this  time  he  neere  dought 9  good  day, 

but  as10  flowers  doth  fade  in  the  ffrost, 
124     soe  he  did  wast  &  weare  away. 


As  to  young 
Andrew, 


but  let  vs  leaue  talking  of  this  Ladye, 

&  talke  some  more  of  young  Andrew,11 
ffor  fialse  he  was  to  this  bonny  Ladye  ; 
128         more  pitty  that  itt  had  12  not  beene  true. 


he  hadn't 
gone  half  a 
mile  into 
Wales 


he  was  not  gone  a  mile  into  the  wild  forrest,13 

or  halfe  a  mile  into  the  hart  of  wales, 
but  there  they  cought  him  by  such  a  braue  wyle 
132         that  hee  must  come  to  tell  noe  more  tales. 


1  until.— P. 

2  truly.— P. 

3  rose.— P. 

4  might  he  see. — P. 

5  there  lay  dead. — P. 

6  any    follows  in    the  MS.,   and   is 
crossed  out. — F. 

7  O  fye  O  fye  now  on  my  gold 

O  fye  on  gold  &  fye  on  fee. — P. 

8  Thus  having  lost  his  daughter  fair, 
He  after  &c.— P. 

9  dought — A.-S.   dugan,  valere,   hinc 
dohtig  Sax.  i.  e.  doughty,  fortis,  strenus, 
CHoss.  ad  G.  Doug'  —P. 


10  [insert]  the.— P. 

11  And  once  more  tell  of  young  An 
drew.— P. 

12  he  had.— P. 

13  He  scarse  was  from  this  Lady  gone, 

or 
As  he  did  from  this  Lady  go 

And  thro'  the  forest  past  his  way 
A  furious  wolf  did  him  beset 

And  there  this  perjured  "knighi 

did  slay.— P. 

And  tow'rd  the  woods  had  gang'd 
away. — P. 


TO  TINGE    ANDREW.  333 

ffull  soone  a  wolfe  did  of  him  smell,  before  a 

&  shee  came  roaring  like  a  beare,  attacked 

&  gaping  like  a  ffeend  of  hell ; 

136     soe  they  ffought  together  like  2  Lyons  [there],1 

&  fire  betweene  them  2  glashet  out ; 
the  raught  eche  other  such  a  great  rappe, 

thai  there  young  Andrew  was  slaine,  well  I  wott.  wiled  him, 

140     but 2  now  young  Andrew  he  is  dead  ; 

but  he  was  neuer  buryed  vnder  mold ; 
for  ther  as  the  wolfe  devoured  him, 

and  eat  him 

there  3  lyes  all  this  great  erles  gold.  up. 

ffins. 

1  Percy  has  added  there,  and  marked  2  And. — P. 

the  line  as  part  of  the  verse  above. — F.  *  And  there  &c.-~ P. 


Percy  has  marked  in  red  ink  brackets,  point,  Ladye,  1.  71. 

for  omission,  the  following  words  or  parts  this  bony  wench,  1.  67. 

of  them  :  vp  of  vpon,  1.  64,  60,  29. 

as,  1.  142.  In  line  8  he  marks  cold  neuer  to  be 

u,  of  neuer,  1.  141.  transposed  to  neuer  cold.    In  other  poems 

father,  1.  107.  I  have  not  noticed  these  red  ink  marks, 

but,  1.  97.  They  would  have  swelled  the  notes  too 

deere,  1.  96.  much,  and  there  are  plenty  of  Percy's 

in  of  into,  1.  92.  alterations  already, 
with,  1.  74. 


334 


f<  A  JIG,"  says  Nares,  "  meant  anciently  not  only  a  merry  dance, 
but  merriment  and  humour  in  writing,  and  particularly  a  ballad. 
Thus  when  Polonius  objects  to  the  Player's  speech,  Hamlet 
sarcastically  observes, 

He's  for  &jigg  or  a  tale  of  bawdry  or  he  sleeps. — (Haml.  ii.  2.) 

He  does  not  mean  a  dance  (which  then  players  did  not  under 
take),  but  ludicrous  dialogue  or  a  ballad.  ...  In  the  Harleian 
collection  of  old  ballads  are  many  under  the  title  of  jigs ;  as 
( A  Northern  Jige,  called  Daintie,  come  thou  to  me,'  c  A  merry 
new  Jigge  or  the  pleasant  Wooing  between  Kit  and  Pegge,'  &c. 
So  in  the  Fatal  Contract  by  Hemmings, 

"We'll  hear  joMrjigg : 
How  is  your  ballad  titled? — (Act  iv.  sc.  4.) 

Thus : 

A  small  matter !  you'll  find  it  worth  Meg  of  "Westminster,  although  it  be  but  a 
bare  jig.— (Hog  hath  lost,  &c.  0.  PI.  vi.  385.) 

It  appears  that  this  jig  was  a  ballad." 

The  following  specimen  of  the  Jig  Dialogical  is  a  sort  of 
vulgar  reproduction  of  the  Nut-Brown  Maid.  The  mode  and 
circumstances  of  life  depicted  in  the  original  ballad  had  passed  out 
of  date ;  the  old  order  had  given  place  to  a  new.  A  new  audience — 
new  chronologically,  new  socially — demanded  a  new  version — a 
"people's  edition,"  so  to  speak.  The  lover  who  here  tests  his 
mistress  is  no  knight,  but  a  common  soldier;  the  mistress  is 
no  highborn  lady,  but  a  common  woman.  And  these  personal 
changes  are  characteristic  of  the  others  which  the  old  ballad  has 
undergone,  to  take  its  present  shape.  No  such  transmutations 

1  Pepys,  iv.  42.  A  Poetical  Dialogue  between  a  Soldier  &  his  Mistress,  not  un 
like  the  Nut-brown  Maid. — P. 


A   JIGGE. 


335 


are  likely  to  be,  from  a  literary  point  of  view,  successful.  This 
one  is  not.  But  the  beauty  of  the  original  is  too  great  to  be 
altogether  destroyed,  however  rude  the  hands  that  handle  it. 
Something  of  the  charm  of  the  Nat-Brown  Maid  lingers  around 
this  Jig. 

Other  handlers  of  the  old  ballad  turned  it  to  a  religious  sense. 
See  the  New  Notbrowne  Mayd  upon  the  Passion  of  Christ  in 
Mr.  Hazlitt's  Early  Popular  Poetry  of  England. 


,  my  sweetest  margett !  I  must  goe  ! 
most  dere  to  mee  that  neuer  l  may  be  soe  ; 
as  ffortune  willes,  I  cannott  itt  deny." 
4    "then  know  thy  lone,  thy  Margarett,  shee  must  dye." 

"Not  ffor  the -gold  that  euer  Croessus  hadd, 
wold  I  once  2  see  thy  sweetest  lookes  soe  fade  ; 
nor  3  ffor  all  that  my  eyes  did  euer  4  see, 
8    wold  I  once  p&rt  thy  sweetest  loue  from  mee  ; 

"  The  King  comands,  &  I  must  to  the  warres." 
"thers  5  others  more  enow  to  end  those  cares." 
"  but  I  am  one  appointed  ffor  to  goe, 
12    &  I  dare  not  ffor  my  liffe  once  say  noe," 

"  0  marry  mee,  &  you  may  stay  att  home  ! 
ffull  30  weekes  you  know  that  I  am  gone.6" 
"  theres  time  enough ;  another  ffather  take  ; 
16    heele  loue  thee  well,  &  not  thy  child  forsake." 

"  And  haue  I  doted  oner  thy  sweetest  fface  ? 
&  dost  infring  the  things  I  haue  in  chase, 
thy  ffaith,  I  meane  ?  but  I  will  wend  with  thee." 
20    "  itt  is  to  ffar  ffor  Pegg  to  goe  with  raee." 


Margaret, 
I  must  leave 
you. 


"  Then  I'll 
die." 


Not  for  the 
world  would 
I  make  you 


but  I  must 
to  the  wars. 


"  Marry  me 
and  stay  at 
home  I " 

Get  another 
father  for 
your  child. 


"No,  I  love 
you 


and  will  go 
with  you. 


1  i.e.  never  hereafter. — H. 

2  There  is  a  mark  like  an  »  undotted 
before  the  o. — F. 

8  nor  yet. — P. 


4  Only  half  the  u  or  e  in  the  MS.— F. 

6  There's.— P. 

6  i.  e.  with  Child.— P. 


336 


A  JIGGE. 


I'll  carry 
your  sword, 


"  I  will  goe  w^'th  thee,  my  loue,  both  night  and  day, 
&  I  will  beare  thy  sword  like  lakyney ;  Lead  the  way ! " 
"  but  wee  must  ryde,  &  will  you  ffollow  then 
24    amongst  a  troope  of  vs  thats  2  armed  men  ?  " 


clean  your 
horse, 


"  He  beare  thy  Lance,  &  grinde  thy  stirropp  too, 
He  rub  thy  horsse,  &  more  then  thai  lie  doo." 
"  but  Margretts  ffingars,  they  be  all  to  nine 
28    to  stand  &  waite  when  shee  shall  see  mee  dine," 


wait  on  you,  "  He  see  you  dine,  &  wayte  still  att  your  backe, 

He  giue  you  wine  or  any  thing  you  Lacke." 
"  but  youle  repine  when  you  shall  see  mee  haue 
32    a  dainty  wench  that  is  both  nine  &  braue." 


love  your 
wench, 


"  He  love  thy  wench,  my  sweetest  loue,  I  vow,  [page  2953 
He  watch  the  time  when  shee  may  pleasure  you  !  " 
"  but  you  will  greeue  to  see  vs  lye  in  bedd ; 
36    &  you  must  watch  still  in  anothers  steede." 


see  you  sleep 
with  her, 


"  He  watch  my  loue  to  see  you  take  yo^r  rest ; 
&  when  you  sleepe,  then  shall  I  thinke  me  blest." 
"  the  time  will  come,  deliuered  you  must  bee ; 
40    then  in  the  campe  you  will  discredditt  mee." 


"  He  goe  firom  thee  beffor  that  time  shalbee  ; 

when  all  his  well,  my  loue  againe  lie  see." 

"  all  will  not  serue,  ffor  Margarett  may  not  goe  ; 


and  leave 
you  before 
my  own 
baby 
comes." 
You  mustn't 

go  with  me.     44    then  doe  resolue,  my  loue,  what  else  to  doe. 


"  Then  I'll 
die,  loving 
you  still." 
No,  I'll  stop 
with  you, 


"  Must  I  not  goe  ?  why  then,  sweete  loue,  adew ! 
needs  must  I  dye,  but  yet  in  dying  trew! " 
"  a  !   stay  3  my  loue  !  I  loue  my  Margarett  well, 
48    &  heere  I  wow 4  w^'th  Margarett  still  to  dwell !  " 


1  along  the  way. — P. 

2  all.-P. 


3  Ah!  stay.— P. 

4  vow.— P. 


A   JIGGE.  337 

"  Giue  me  thy  hand !  thy  Margarett  Hues  againe  !  " 
"  heeres  l  my  hand  !  lie  neuer  breed  thee  paine  ! 
I  kisse  my  lone  in  token  that  is  soe ; 
52    wee  will  be  wedd  :  come,  Margarett,  let  vs  goe." 

ffins. 

1  here  is. — P. 


338 


[In  Six  Parts.— P.] 

THIS  romance  has  been  printed  among  the  Thornton  Romances 
for  the  Camden  Society  from  a  MS.  in  the  Public  Library  of 
Cambridge  (Ff.  ii.  38),  the  copies  of  it  and  Degrevant  made  by 
Thornton  "unfortunately  being  imperfect."  There  is  another 
copy  among  the  MSS.  Cotton  (Calig.  A.  11).  The  Percy  Folio 
copy  is  here  printed  for  the  first  time :  "  A  single  leaf  of  another 
early  copy,"  as  Mr.  Halliwell,  the  editor  of  the  Thornton  Ro 
mances,  informs  us,  "  is  preserved  in  a  MS.  belonging  to  Lord 
Francis  Egerton.  It  was  printed  at  Edinburgh  in  1508  by 
Walter  Chapman,  and  subsequently  at  London  by  Copland  and 
Walley.  Shakespeare  may  possibly  have  had  this  hero  in  his 
mind  when  he  calls  one  of  his  characters  by  his  name  in  the 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  :  ( What  think'st  thou  of  the  fair  Sir 
Eglamore?'  The  name,  however,  appears  to  have  passed  into 
a  kind  of  proverb.  So  in  Dekker's  Satiromastix :  ( Adieu,  Sir 
Eglamore  !  adieu,  lute-string,  curtain-rod,  goose-quill ! '  The 
name  of  Torrent  of  Portugal  is  partly  founded  upon  the  story 
related  in  Sir  Eglamore.  The  names  are  changed,  but  the  re 
semblance  is  too  striking  to  have  been  the  result  of  chance.  The 
treachery  of  the  sovereign,  the  prowess  of  the  knight,  the  indis 
cretions  and  misfortunes  of  the  lady,  and  the  happy  conclusions 

1  The  readings  marked  T.  are  from  Camden  Society  in  1844.     Very  few  of 

the  Thornton  MS.,   '  Sir  Eglamour  of  the  very  many  differences  between  the 

Artois'  (MS.  Syr  Egyllamowre  of  Artas)  two  texts  are  given^^F. 
as    edited    by  Mr.    Halliwell  for    the 


EGLAMORE.  339 

of  her  misfortunes — these  form  the  leading  incidents  of  each 
romance.  Torrent  of  Portugal  is  preserved  in  an  unique  manu 
script  of  the  fifteenth  century,  in  the  Chetham  Library  at 
Manchester : 

Here  bygynneth  a  good  tale 
Of  Torrente  of  Portingale  : 

and  although  somewhat  disfigured  by  the  errors  of  the  scribe, 
contains  much  that  is  curious  and  valuable.  As  this  poetical 
tale  has  recently  been  published,  there  is  no  necessity  for  proving 
in  this  place  a  similarity  that  will  be  at  once  detected  by  the 
reader;  but  there  is  perhaps  a  secret  history  attached  to  the 
source  of  these  romances  that  remains  to  be  unravelled." 

Ellis  makes  the  abstract  he  gives  of  Eglamore  from  the  copy 
printed  by  Walley.  All  at  all  important  differences  between  the 
Thornton  copy  and  ours  are  recorded  by  Mr.  Furnivall  in  the 
notes. 

The  romance  is  certainly  of  more  than  usual  merit — less  prolix 
and  garrulous,  or  rather  of  more  interesting  garrulity.  Many  of 
its  "  positions  "  are  indeed  of  the  kind  commonest  in  romantic 
literature,  as  the  passage  of  the  squire's  love  for  his  lord's 
daughter,  the  combat  with  the  giant,  the  unconsummated 
marriage  of  a  son  and  his  mother.  No  one  of  them  perhaps 
can  be  pronounced  novel.  The  stories  of  a  woman's  exposure 
to  the  mercy  of  the  winds  and  seas,  and  of  the  carrying  off  of 
her  son  by  a  great  bird,  are  well  known  elsewhere — in  Chaucer's 
Man  of  Laiv's  Tale,  and  among  the  legends  of  the  house  of 
Stanley — and  are  undoubtedly  of  extreme  antiquity.  But  there 
are  other  charms  besides  novelty  of  incident.  These  can  make 
old  things  new,  can  endow  with  spirit  and  vigour  the  form  that 
is  worn  and  wasted.  The  minstrel  who  wrote,  or  rather  trans 
lated,  this  piece,  if  a  minstrel  he  was,  as  verses  1227—9  might 
suggest,  told  an  old  tale  freshly, — a  tale  of  love  much  crossed 
and  thwarted,  but  prosperous  in  the  end — of  treachery,  potent 


340  EGLAMORE. 

and  prevailing  for  a  while,  but  at  last  shown  futile  and  fatal — 
of  strange  partings  and  yet  stranger  meetings. 

Full  true  it  is,  by  god  in  heaven, 
That  men  meet  at  unset  steven. 

Thrice  old  themes  these  ;  but  in  the  hands  of  this  romance-writer 
made  juvenescent. 

Such  an  union  between  mother  and  son  as  that  which  occurs 

in   Eglamorg  is   a   very   favourite   arrangement   with  the   old 

romance-writers.     It  immediately  precedes  and  generally  brings 

about  the  dvayvcopio-is.     Thus  the  extremest  alarm  and  horror 

immediately  introduce  the  extremest  delight.    Fear  and  joy  are 

brought  into  the  closest  juxtaposition.   The  romance-writer  could 

conceive  of  no  more  terrible  disturbance  and  overthrow  of  the 

order  of  nature  than  that  fearful  conversion  of  a  mother  into  a 

wife,  a  son  into  a  husband — that  ruin  of  the  most  beautiful  of 

the  domestic  relations.     Though  bold  enough  to  describe  it  as 

possible,  and,  indeed,  imminent,  he  never  dares  to  let  it  actually 

come  to  pass.     He  never  lets  the  ghastly  shade  become  a  living 

thing.     The  Greek  poets  too  regarded  this  same  connection  as 

the  culminating  horror.     In  their  eyes,  too,  conflicts  between 

father  and  son,  love  other  than  pious  between  son  and  mother, 

appeared  the  most  frightful  of  all  possible  frightfulnesses.     But 

they  went  further  than  the  old  romance-writers.     They  were  not 

content  with  the  apprehension  ;  they  did  not  shrink  from  the  act. 

What  in  the  romances  is  only  threatened,  is  in  the  Greek  legend 

perpetrated.   Hideous  possibilities  become  there  yet  more  hideous 

realities.     Eve  in  the  one  case  only  fingers  the  apple ;  in  the 

other  she  plucks  and  eats  it.     Medieval  feeling  was  the  more 

delicate  and  sensitive  in  this  respect.     Its  poet  ever  averts  the 

horrible  catastrophe.     As  the  storm  is  on  the  point  of  bursting, 

and  the  nymphs  with  wild  frantic  faces  stand  ready  to  "  shriek 

on   the   mountain,"  suddenly  the   sky   clears,   there  are  pious 

embracings,  the  domestic  sanctities  are  preserved  and  ratified. 


EGLAMORE. 


341 


[Part  L] 

[How  Eglamore  lovod  Christabell,  and  undertook  three  Deeds  of  Arms  to  win  her.] 


12 


lESUS  :  christ,  heauen  king ! 
grant  vs  all  his  deere  blessinge, 

&  builde  vs  [in]  l  his  bower  2  ! 
&  giue  them  [ioye]  3  that  will  heare 
of  Elders  that  before  vs  were, 

that  lined  in  great  honor.4 
I  will  tell  you  of  a  Knight 
that  was  both  5  hardye  &  wight, 

&  stiffe  in  euerye  stower ; 
&  wher  any  deeds  of  armes  were, 
hee  wan  the  prize  with  sheeld  &  speare, 

&  euer  he  was  the  fflower. 


Christ,  bless 
us, 


and  give 
joy  to  those 
that  love  old 
heroes ! 


I'll  tell  you 
of  a  hardy 
knight 


who  always 
won  the 
prize. 


•20 


In  Artoys  the  Knight  was  borne, 
&  his  ffather  him  beforne ; 

listen ;  I  will  you  say.6 
Sir  Prinsamoure  the  Erie  hight ; 
&  Eglamore  the  hight  [the]  Knight 7 

that  curteous  was  alway ; 
&  he  was  for  a  man  8  verament, 
w^th  the  Erie  was  he  bent,9 

to  none  he  wold  say  nay.10 


He  was  bom 
in  Artoys, 


his  name 
Eglamore : 


he  was  a 
man, 
and  never 
refused  a 
fight. 


1  in. — T.     in. — P.    builde,  shelter,  as 
in  vol.  i.  p.  27, 1.  11.— F. 
h->ure.— P. 
yoye. — T.    joye. — P. 
honoure. — P. 
bolde.— P.     hardy.— T. 
Percy  marks  to  come  after  this  : 

For  that  he  was  a  man  full  bolde 
With  the  Erie  was  he  holde 
In  housholde  nyght  &  day. 

The  Thornton  MS.  has : 


To  dedes  of  armes  he  ys  wente, 
Wyth  the  Erie  of  Artas  he  ys  lente, 
He  faylyth  hym  not  nyght  nor  daye. 

7  Sir  Eglamre  than  hyght  the  knyght. 
— P.     Syr  Egyllamowre  men  calle  the 
knyjt. — T. 

8  And  for  he  was  a  man. — P. 

9  lente.— P.     he  ys  lente.— T. 

10  To  no  man  he  wolde. — P.     T.  has : 

Whylle  the  erle  had  him  in  holde, 
Of  dedes  of  armes  he  was  bolde, 
For  no  man  seyde  he  nay. — F. 


342 


EGLAMORE. 


The  Earl  of 
Artoys 
has  a  lovely 
daughter, 


Christabell, 


Eglamore 
loves  her, 


the  Erie  had  noe  Child  but  one, 
a  maiden  as  white  as  whalles  bone,1 
24         thai  his  right  heyre  shold  bee ; 
Christabell  was  the  Ladyes  name'; 
a  ffairer  maid  then  shee  was  ane 

was  none  2  in  christentye. 
28     Christabell  soe  well  her  bore ; 
the  Erie  loued  nothing  more 

then  his  daughter  ffree  ; 
soe  did  thai  gentle  knight 
32     thai  was  soe  full  of  might ; 
it  was  the  more  pittye. 


and  she 
loves  him. 


Strange 
lords  come 
to  woo  her. 


A  tourney  is 
held, 


and 

Eglamore 
unhorses  all 
her  suitors. 


40 


44 


3 

the  knight  was  both  hardy  &  snell, 
&  knew  the  ladye  loued  him  well. 

listen  a  while  &  dwell : 
Lords  came  ffrom  many  a  Land 
her  to  haue,  I  understand, 

w^th  fforce  ffold  3  and  ffell. 
St'r  Prinsamoure  then  did  crye 
strong  lusting  &  turnamentrye  4 

for  the  loue  of  Christabell. 
what  man  thai  did  her  craue, 
such  stroakes  Eglamore  him  gaue, 

thai  downe  right  he  ffell. 


He  opens  his 
heart  to  his 
chamber 
lain, 


to  his  chamberlaine  5  then  gan  he  saw,6 
"  ffrom  thee  I  cann  hyde  nought  away," 
48          (where  they  did  together  rest7  ;) 
"  ffaire  ffrand,  nought  to  laine, 
my  councell  thou  wold  not  saine ; 
On  thee  is  all  my  trust." 


1  ivory. — F.    as  faire. — T. 

2  not. — P.    Ther  was  none  soche. — T. 
8  ferse  folke.— T. 

4  Syr  Egyllamowre  he  dud  to  crye 
Of  dedes  of  annys  utterly. — T. 


[page  296] 


5  squyer,    (with    altered    lines). — T. 
See  squier,  st.  9. 1.  Ill  below.— F. 

6  say.— P. 

7  rest. — P.     Bell  altered  into  rest  in 
the  MS.— F. 


EGLAMORE. 


343 


52     "Master,"  hee  said,  "per  ma  fay, 
what-soeuer  you  to  me  say, 

I  shall  itt  neuer  out  cast." 
"  the  Erles  daughter,  soe  god  me  saue, 
56     the  loue  of  her  but  thai  I  haue, 
my  lifie  itt  may  not  Last." 


and  says  he 
shall  die 
unless  he 
can  win 
Christabell's 
love. 


GO 


64 


68 


,"  said  the  young  man  ffree, 
"  you  haue  told  me  your  priuitye  ; 

I  will  giue  you  answere 
to  this  tale  :  I  vnderstand 
you  are  "a  knight  of  litle  Land, 

&  much  wold  haue  more ; 
If  I  shold  to  that  Ladye  goe 
&  show  jour  hart  &  loue, 

shee  lightlye  wold  let  me  fare ; 
the  man  that  heweth  ouer  hye, 
some  chipp  ffalleth  on  his  eye  ; 

thus  doth  it  euer  fare. 


The  cham 
berlain 


that 

Eglamorc  is 
too  poor, 

the  lady 
wouldn't 
listen  to 
him; 

those 

hewing  too 
high  get 
chips  in 
their  eye. 


80 


"  remember  Master,  of  one  thing,1 
that  shee  wold  haue  both  Erie  & 

&  many  a  bold  Barron  alsoe  ; 
the  Ladye  will  haue  none  of  those, 
but  in  her  maidenhead  hold  ;  2 
ffor  wist  her  ffather,  by  heauen 
that  you  were  sett  on  such  a  thinge, 

right  deere  itt  shold  be  bought, 
trow  yee  shee  wold  King  fforsake, 
&  such  a  simple  knight  take, 

but  if  you  haue  loued  her  of  old  ? 


But  yet  she 
refuses  her 
rich  suitors. 


and  that 
must  be  for 


love. 


1  Syr,     than     tmbe-thanke    on    thys 
thyng.— T. 

2  3yt  wylle  sche  not  have  of  thoo, 
But  in  godenos  hur  holdyth  so, 


The  which  y  trowe  ys  for  thy  lore 

and  no  mo. — T. 

T.     also     transposes    the    next    two 
triplets.— F. 


344 


EGLAMORE. 


Moreover, 


in  deeds  of 
arms 

Eglamore  is 
worth  any 
five  other 
knights. 


88 


92 


the  knight  answerd  ffull  mild  : 
"  ener  since  I  was  a  Child 

thou  hast  beene  loued  of  l  mee. 
in  any  iusting  or  any  stower, 
saw  you  me  haue  any  dishonor 

in  battell  where  I  hane  bee  ?  " 
"  Nay,  "Master,  att  all  rights 
you  are  one  of  the  best  knights 

in  all  Christentye  ; 
in  deeds  of  armes,  by  god  aliue, 
thy  body  is  worth  other  5." 

"  gramercy,  S£r,"  sayd  hee  : 


Eglamore 
goes  to  his 
room, 


and  prays 
God 


to  give  him 
Christabell 
as  his  wife. 


96 


100 


104 


Eglamore  sighed,  &  said  noe  more, 
but  to  his  Chamber  gan  hee  flare, 

that  richelye  was  wrought, 
to  god  his  hands  he  held  vp  soone, 
"  ~Lord  I  "lie  said,  " grant  me  a  boone 

as  thou  on  roode  me  bought ! 
the  Erles  daughter,  ffaire  &  flree, 
that  shee  may  my  wifie  bee, 

flbr  shee  is  most  in  my  thought ; 
that  I  may  wed  her  to  my  wifie, 
&  in  loy  to  lead  our  lifie ;  2 

from  care  then  were  I  brought." 


Next  day  he 


doesn't  go 
to  dine  in 
Hall. 

Christabell 
asks  where 
he  is. 


108 


on  the  morrow  that  maiden  small 
eate  w^th  her  ffather  in  the  hall, 

that  was  soe  faire  &  bright, 
all  the  knights  were  at  meate  saue  hee  ; 
the  Ladye  said,  "for  gods  pittye! 

where  is  S^r  Eglamore  my  ~Knight  ? 


1  lente  wyth.— T. 


2  and  sethen  reches  in  my  life. — T. 


EGLAMOIIE. 


345 


his  squier  answerd  w^th  heauye  cheere, 
112     "lie  is  sicke,  &  dead  ffull  neere, 

he  prayeth  you  of  a  sight ; 
he  is  now  cast  in  such  a  care, 
but  if  he  mends  not  of  his  fare 
116         he  liueth  not  to  night." 


"He  is 
nearly  dead, 
and  prays  to 
see  you." 


10 

the  Erie  vnto  his  daughter  spake, 
"  damsell,"  he  said,  "  for  god  sake 

listen  vnto  mee ! 

1 20     after  me,  doe  as  I  thee  hend  ; l 
to  his  chamber  see  thou  wend, 

ffor  hee  was  curteous  &  ffree ; 
ffull  truly e  with  his  intent, 
124     w*th  lusting  &  in  Turnament, 

he  said  vs  neuer  nay  ; 
if  any  deeds  of  armes  were, 
he  wan  the  prize  w^th  turnay  2  cleere  ; 
128         our  worshippe  for  euer  and  aye." 


[page  297] 


The  Earl 

charges 

Christabell 


to  go  and  see 
Eglamore, 


who  never 
refused  a 
tourney, 


and  always 
won  the 
prize. 


11 

then  ^  ter  meate  that  Ladye  gent 
did  affter  her  fathers  comandement,3 

shee  busked  her  to  wend. 
132     forth  shee  went  withouten  more, 
for  nothing  wold  shee  spare, 

but  went  there  as  hee  Lay.4 
"  Master,"  said  the  squier,  "be  of  good  cheere, 
136     heere  cometh  the  Erles  daughter  deere, 
some  words  to  you  to  say." 


After  Hall, 


Christabell 


goes  to 
Eglamore, 


1  After  mete  do  ye  as  hynde. — T.  See 
'After  meate,'  st.  11,  1.  129.  But 'after 
me '  may  mean,  by  my  direction,  see  1. 
130,  though  I  do  not  know  hend  in  the 
sense  of  teU,  bid.— F. 

VOL.   II.  A  A 


2  jurney.— T. 

8  Only  half  the  first  n  in  the  MS.— F. 

4  T.  puts  in  three  lines  in  which  Chris 
tabell  asks  the  squire  how  Eglamore  is. 
— F. 


346 


EGLAMOKE. 


and  asks 
how  he  is. 


"Dying  for 
love  of  you." 


"I'm  very 
sorry  to 
grieve  you." 


"  Then  be 
my  wife." 


12 

&  then  said  that  Ladye  bright, 
"  how  fareth  S^r  Eglamore  my  "Knight, 
140         that  is  a  man  right  ffaire  ?," 

"  forsoothe,  Ladye,  as  you  may  see, 
•with  woe  I  am  bound  for  the  loue  of  yee, 

in  longing  &  in  care." 
144     "  Sir,"  shee  said,  "by  gods  pittye, 
if  you  be  agrreeued l  fibr  mee, 

itt  wold  greeue  me  full  sore  !" 
"  damsell,  if  I  might  turne  to  liffe, 
148     I  wold  haue  you  to  my  wiffe, 
if  itt  your  will  were." 


"  You're  a 

noble 

knight, 

and  manful 
in  fight. 


Ask  my 
father, 


and  if  he 


I  will." 


13 

"  Sir,"  shee  said,  "  soe  mote  I  thee, 
you  are  a  Noble  Knight  and  ffree, 
152         &  come  of  gentle  blood  ; 

a  manfull  man  you  are  in  ffeild 

to  win  the  gree  with  speare  &  sheeld 

nobly  by  the  roode  ; 
156     Sir,  att  my  fiather  read  you  witt,2 
&  see  what  hee  will  say  to  itt ; 

or  if  his  will  bee  good, 
&  if  that  hee  be  att  assent, 
160    as  I  am  true  Ladie  &  gent, 
my  will  it  shalbe  good." 


Eglamore  is 
in  bliss, 


164 


14 


the  Knight  desired  noe  other  3  blisse 
when  he  had  gotten  his  grantesse,4 

but  made  royall  5  cheere  ; 
he  comanded  a  Sqiuer  to  goe 


1  The  rr  is  much  like  u  in  the  MS.— F. 

2  T.  makes  the  lady  take  the  'Ask 
Papa'  on  herself,  and  when  they  are 
agreed,  she'll  not  fail  Eglamore. — F. 


9  kepte  no  more. — T. 

4  geton  graunt  of  thys. — T. 

5  hur  fulle  gode.— T. 


EGLAMORE. 


347 


to  ffeitch  gold,  a  100  l  or  towe, 
&  giue  the  2  Maidens  cleere. 
168     S^r  Eglamore  said,  "  soe  haue  I  blisse  ! 
to  yo^r  marriage  I  giue  you  this, 

ffor  yee  neuer  come  heere  yore." 
the  Lady  then  thanked  &  kissed  the  Tonight ; 
172     shee  tooke  her  leaue  anon-right, 

"  farwell,  my  true  sonne  deere."  3 


and  gives 
Christabell'a 
maidens 
lOOf. 


Christabell 


15 

then  homeward  shee  tooke  the  way.4 
"  welcome  !  "  sayd  the  Erie,  "  in  fiay, 
176         tell  mee  how  haue  yee  doone. 

say,  my  daughter  as  white  as  any  flower, 
how  fiareth  my  knight  Sir  Eglamore  ?  " 

&  shee  answered  him  sooner 
180     "  fforsooth,  to  mee  he  hartilye  sware 
he  was  amended  of  his  care, 

good  comfort  hath  hee  tane  ; 
he  told  me  &  my  maidens  hende, 
184     that  hee  vnto  the  riuer  wold  wend 
with  hounds  &  hawkes  right." 


goes  back  to 
her  father, 


and  tells  him 
Sir 

Eglamore  is 
quite  well, 


and  is  going 

out 

hawking. 


188 


192 


16 

the  Erie  said,  "  soe  Mote  I  thee, 
with  him  will  I  ryde  that  sight  to  see, 

to  make  my  hart  more  light."  5 
on  the  morrow,  when  itt  was  day, 
Sir  Eglamore  tooke  the  way 

to  the  riuer  ffull  right, 
the  Erie  made  him  redye  there,  ] 
&  both  rode  to  they  riuer 


Next  day 
Eglamore 

and  the  Earl 
hawk 


1  and  take  an  hundurd  pownd. — T. 

2  hur.— T. 

8  And  seyde  '  Farewelle  my  fere.'— T. 


4  Crystyabelle  hath  takyn  hur  way. 
— T. 

5  For  comforte  of  that  knyght. — T. 

AA2 


348 


EGLAMORE. 


and  are 
pleasant 
together. 


196 


to  see  some  ffaire  fflight. 
all  they  day  they  made  good  eheere : 
a  wrath  began,  as  you  may  heare, 

long  ere  itt  was  night.1 


But  coming 
home, 
Eglamore 
asks  if  the 
Earl  will 
hear  him. 

"  Certainly, 

I  like  to 
hear  you : 


you're  the 
best  knight 
in  the  land." 


"  When  will 
your 

daughter  be 
betrothed  ?  " 


17 

as  they  rode  homeward  in  the  way, 
Sir  Eglamore  to  the  Erie  gan  say, 
200         "  My  lord,  will  you  now 2  heare  ?  " 
"  all  ready,  Eglamore  ;  in  ffay, 
whatsoener  you  to  me  say, 
to  me  itt  is  ffull  deere  ; 
204     ffor  why,  the  doughtyest  art  thou 
that  dwelleth  in  this  Land  now, 

for  to  beare  sheeld  &  speare.3  " 
"my  Lord,"  he  said,  "of  charity e, 
208     Christabell  you?  daughter  ffree, 

when  shall  shee  haue  a  fieere  ?  " 


"  I  know  no 
one  whom 
she  would 
have." 


"  Give  her 
to  me." 


"  I  will,  and 
allArtois 
too,  if  you'll 
do  3  deeds  of 
arms  for 
her." 


"  Thank 
you! 


18 

the  Erie  said,  "  soe  god  me  saue, 
I  know  noe  man  that  shee  wold  haue, 
212         my  daughter  faire  and  cleere." 
"  now,  good  LorcZ,  I  you  pray, 
for  I  haue  serued  you  many  a  day, 
to  giue  me  her  withouten  nay." 
216     the  Erie  said,  "  by  gods  paine, 

if  thou  her  winne  as  I  shall  saine, 

by  deeds  of  armes  three, 
then  shalt  thou  haue  my  daughter  deere, 
220     &  all  Artois  ffarr  &  neere." 

"  gramercy,  Sir !  "  said  hee. 


1  long  ere  night  it  were.— P. 

2  ye  me.— T. 


3  Awnturs  ferre  or  nere. — T. 


EGLAMORE. 


349 


19 

S^r  Eglamore  [sware  *],  "  soe  mote  I  thee, 
att  my  iourney  2  ffaine  wold  I  be  !  " 
224         right  soone  he  made  him  yare. 
the  Erie  said,  "  here  by  west 
dwelleth  a  Gyant  in  a  fforrest, — 

ffowler  neuer  saw  I  ere  ; — 
228     therin  be  trees  ffaire  &  3  long, 
3  harts  4  run  them  5  amonge, 

the  fairest  thai  on  ffoot  gone. 
Sir,  might  yee  bring  one  away, 
232     then  durst  I  boldly  say 

that  yee  had  beene  there." 


let  me  go  to 
work  at 
once." 


The  Earl 

sets 

Eglamore 
his  first 
feat: 
to  go  to  a 
giant's 
forest, 
and  fetch 
him  one  of 
three  harts 
running 
about  there. 


20 

6  "  fforsooth,"  said  Eglamore  then, 
"  if  that  hee  be  a  Christyan  man, 
236         I  shall  him  neuer  fforsake." 
the  Erie  said  in  good  cheere, 
"  with  him  shalt  thou  ffight  in  feere  ; 

his  name  is  Sir  Marroccke." 
240     the  ~K.night  thought  on  Christabell ; 
he  swore  by  him  that  harrowed  hell, 

him  wold  he  neuer  fforsake. 
"  Sir,  keepe  well  my  Lady  &  my  Land  !  " 
244     therto  the  Erie  held  vp  his  hand, 
&  trothes  they  did  strike. 


Eglamore 
undertakes 
to  fetch  the 
hart. 


and  fight 
the  giant 
Marrocke. 


He  commits 
Christabell 
to  her 
father's  care, 


then  afterwards,  as  I  you  say, 
Sir  Eglamore  tooke  the  way 


The  knyght  sweryd. — T. 
The  o  looks  like  a  in  the  MS. — F. 
Cypur  trees  there  growe  owte. — T. 
The  h  is  like  an  I  in  the  MS.— F. 
Crete  hertys  there  walke. — T. 
T.  has  for  this  stanza : 


Be  Jhesu  swere  the  knyght  than, 
"  Yf  he  be  ony  Crystyn-man, 

Y  schalle  hym  nevyr  forsake. 
Holde  well  my  lady  and  my  londe." 
"  jys," seyde  the  erle,  "here  myn  honde !' 

Hys  trowthe  to  hym  he  strake. 


350 


EQLAMORE. 


tells  her  ho 
has  under 
taken  three 
deeds  of 
arms  for 
her. 

Christabell 


hopes  God 
will  help 
him. 


248        to  thai  Ladye  soe  ffree  : 

"  damsell,"  hee  said  to  tier  anon, 
"  ffor  jour  Loue  I  haue  vndertane 

deeds  of  Armes  three." 

252     "  good  S^r,"  shee  said,  "  be  merry  &  glad ; 
fibr  a  worsse  lourney  you  neuer  had 

in  noe  christyan  countrye. 
if  god  grant  ffrom  his  grace 
256     that  wee  2  may  ffrom  that  lourney  apace, 
god  grant  it  may  be  soe  3 ! 


She  gives 
him  a  grey 
hound 


that'll  pull 
down  any 
stag, 

and  a  sword 


that'll  cut 
any  helm  in 
two. 


"  S«r,  if  you  be  on  hunting  ffound, 
I  shall  you  giue  a  good  greyhound 
260         that  is  dun  as  a  doe  ; 

ffor  as  I  am  a  true  gentle  woman, 
there  was  neuer  deere  that  he  att 4  ran 

that  might  scape  him  ffroe : 
264    alsoe  a  sword  I  giue  thee, 
that  was  ffound  in  the  sea  5 ; 
of  such  I  know  noe  moe. 
if  you  haue  happ  to  keepe  itt  weele, 
268     there  is  no  helme  of  Iron  nor  steele 
but  itt  wold  carue  in  2. 


Eglamore 
bids  Christa 
bell  good 
bye, 


[Part  II.6] 

[How  Eglamore  kills  the  giant  Marrocke  and  a  big  Boar.] 


23 


Eglamore  kissed  that  Lady  gent ; 
he  tooke  his  leaue,  &  fforth  hee  went. 


1  T.  has  for  the  next  five  lines : 
For  an  hardere  fytt  never  ye  had, 

Be  God,  in  no  cuntre ! 
Or  that  yurney  he  over  passyd, 
For  my  love  ye  schalle  sey  fulle  ofte 
alias! 

And  so  schalle  y  for  thee. 

2  ye.— P. 


8  so  bee. — P. 

4  beste  that  on  fote.— T. 

6  Seynt  Poule  fonde  hyt  in  the  Grekes 
see.— T. 

6  Part  I.  would  end  better  with  stanza 
28,  1.  341,  where  the  Thornton  version 
ends  its  "furste  fytt."— F. 


EGLAMOEE. 


351 


272    his  way  now  hath  hee  tane  ; 

'The  hye  streetes  held  he  west 
till  he  came  to  the  fforrest ; 

ffarrer  saw  he  neuer  none, 
276          with  trees  of  Cypresse  lying  out. 
2?  Parte.  J  the  wood  was  walled  round  abowt 

with  strong  walles  of  stone  ; 
fforthe  he  rade,  as  I  vnderstand, 
280          till  he  came  to  a  gate  thai  he  ffand, 
&  therin  is  he  gone. 


[page  299]    r}degtothe 
forest, 


enters  it  by 
agate, 


24 

his  home  he  blew  in  that  tyde  ; 
harts  start  vpp  on  euery  side, 
284         &  a  noble  deere  l  ffull  prest ; 

the  hounds  att  the  deere  gan  bay. 

with  tJiat  heard  the  Gyant  where  he  lay ; 

itt  lett  him  of  his  rest ; 
288     "  methinketh,  by  hounds  that  I  heare, 
that  there  is  one  hunting  2  my  deare  ; 

it  were  better  that  he  cease  3  ! 
by  him  that  wore  the  crowne  of  thorne, 
292     in  a  worse  time  he  neuer  blew  a  home, 
ne  dearer  bought  a  messe  4  !  " 

25 

Marrocke  the  Gyant  tooke  the  way 
thorrow  the  fforrest  were  itt  Lay ; 
296         to  the  gate  he  sett  his  backe. 
Sir  Eglamore  hath  done  to  dead, 


blows  his 
horn, 


and  his 
hounds  bay 
at  the  deer. 
The  giant 
Marrocke 


swears  it' 
be  the  worst 
blowing  the 
man  ever 
made, 


and  goes  to 
his  gate. 


1  Twety  does  not  use  the  word  deer  in 
speaking  "of  the  Hert.  Now  wyl  we 
speke  of  the  hert ;  and  speke  we  of  his 
"degres :  that  is  to  say,  the  fyrst  yere  he 
is  a  calfe,  the  secunde  yere  a  broket, 
the  iij.  yeare  a  spayer,  the  iiij.  yere  a 
stagg,  the  v.  yere  a  greet  stagg,  the  vj. 
yeare  a  hert  at  the  fyrst  hed ;  but  that  ne 
fallith  not  in  jugement  of  huntersse,  for 


the  gret  dyversytethat  is  fownde  of  hem, 
for  alleway  we  calle  of  the  fyrst  hed 
tyl  that  he  be  of  x.  of  the  lasse.  Beliq. 
Antiq.  i.  151.— F. 

2  Yondur  is  a  thefe  to  stele. — T. 

3  He  were  welle  bettur  to  be  at  the 
see.— T. 

4  Neythur    hys    bowe    bende    in  no 
manys  fee. — T. 


352 


EGLAMORE. 


Eglamore 
Mils  a  stag, 
cuts  his  head 
off, 


and  asks 
Marrocke  to 
let  him  pass. 

Marrocke 


slaine  a  hart,  &  smitten  off  his  head ; 

the  prize  l  he  blew  ffull  shrill ; 
300     &  when  he  came  where  the  gyant  was, 
ft  good  S^r,"  he  sayd,  "  lett  me  passe, 

if  thai  itt  be  yo-^r  will." 
"  nay,  traitor  !  thou  art  tane  ! 
304     my  principall 2  hart  thou  hast  slaine ! 
thou  shalt  itt  like  ffull  ill." 


strikes  at 
him 


and  says  he'll 
keep  him 
there. 


Eglamore 
hits  the 
giant  in  the 
eye,  and 
blinds  him, 


26 

the  Gyant  att  the  chase3, 
a  great  clubb  vp  hee  takes, 
308         that  villanous  was  and  great 4  ; 
such  a  stroke  hee  him  gaue 
that  into  the  earth  went  his  staffe, 

a  ffoote  on  euery  side. 

312     "traitor  !  "  he  said,  "  what  doest  thou  here 
in  my  fforrest  to  slay  my  deere  ? 

here  shalt  thou  now  abyde." 
Eglamore  his  sword  out  drew, 
316     &  in  his  sight  made  such  a  shew,5 
&  made  him  blind  that  tyde. 


but  he 
fights  on  for 
two  days  and 
more; 


then 

Eglamore 
kills  him, 


27 

how-be-itt  he  lost  his  sight, 
he  ffought  with  Sir  Eglamore  that  ~K.night 
320         2  dayes  &  some  deale  more  ; 
till  the  3*  6  day  att  prime 
S^'r  Eglamore  waited  his  time, 
&  to  the  hart  him  bare. 


1  And  whan  the  hert  is  take,  ye  shal 
blowe  iiij.  motys  .  .  .  and  the  hed  shal  be 
brout  horn  to  the  lord,  and  the  skyn 
.  .  .  Than  blow  at  the  dore  of  halle 
the  pryse.  .  .  .  And  whan  the  bnk  is 
i-take,  ye  shal  blowe  pryse,  and  reward 
your  houndes  of  the  paunch  and  the 
bowellis.  Twety,  in  Reliq.  Ant.  i.  153. 
Fr.  Prise  a  taking  .  .  .  also,  the  death  or 


fall  of  a  hunted  beast.     Cotgrave. — F. 

2  chefe.— T. 

3  to  the  kny3t  ys  gon. — T. 

4  mekylle  and  fulle  unweelde. — T. 

5  And  to  the  geant  he  gafe  a  sowe. 
— T.     Sough,  a  stroke  or  blow.     Jamie- 
son.— F. 

6  Tylle  on  the  todur.— T. 


EGLAMORE. 


353 


324     through  gods  might,  &  his  kniffe, 
there  the  Gyant  lost  his  liffe ; 

ffast  he  began  to  rore. 
ffor  certaine  sooth,  as  I  you  say, 
328     when  he  was  meaten l  there  he  Lay 
he  was  15  ffoote  2  &  more. 


and  he 
roars. 


He  measures 
fifteen  feet. 


28  3 

through  the  might  of  god,  &  his  kniffe, 
thus  hath  the  Gyant  Lost  his  liffe ; 
332         he  may  thanke  god  of  his  boone  ! 
the  Gyants  head  w^th  him  hee  bare 
the  right  way  as  hee  ffound  there, 

till  hee  came  to  the  castle  of  stone. 
336     all  the  whole  court  came  him.  againe ; 
"such  a  head,"  they  gan  saine, 

"saw  they  neuer  none." 
before  the  Erie  he  itt  bare, 
340     "my  Lord,"  he  said,  "I  haue  beene  there, 
in  witnesse  of  you  all 4  !  " 


Eglamore 
takes  the 
giant's  head 


to  the  Earl 
of  Artoys, 
and  says  he 
has  been  to 
the  giant. 


29 

the  Erie  said,  "  sith  itt  is  done, 
Another  lourney  there  shall  come  soone, —  [pagesoo] 
344         buske  thee  &  make  thee  yare, — 
to  Sattin,  thai  5  countrye, 
ffor  therin  may  noe  man  bee 

for  doubt 6  of  a  bore  ; 
348     his  tuskes  are  a  yard  7  long ; 

what  mesh  thai  they  doe  come  among, 
itt  couereth  8  neuer  more ; 


The  Earl 
sets  him  his 
second  deed 
of  arms : 


to  go  to 
Sattin 


and  kill  a 
big  boar 
there, 


1  meted,  measured. — F. 

2  xl.  fote.— T. 

8  Mr.  Halliwell  makes  two  stanzas  of 
28,  the  rhyme-lines  varying. — F. 

4  For  there,  1.  339,  compare  1.  233. 
T.  adds  (in  italics) : 


Make  we,  men/,  so  have  we  blys, 
Thys  ys  the  furste  ft/it  of  thys 
That  we  have  undertane. — F. 

8  In  Sydon,  in  that  ryche. — T. 

6  fear.— F.    drede.— T. 

T  fote.— T.  8  recovers.— F. 


354 


EOLAMOIIE. 


which  kills 
everything 
it  gets  hold 
of. 


both  man  &  beast  itt  slayeth, 
352     all  that  euer  la.ee  ouer-taketh, 

&  giueth  them  wounds  sore." 


Eglamore 
starts  again, 
journeys 


fourteen 
days  over 
land  and  sea, 


and  then 
comes  on 
traces  of 
the  boar, 


dead  men  all 
about. 


30 

S^r  Eglamore  wold  not  gaine-say, 
he  tooke  his  leaue  &  went  his  way, 
356         to  his  lourney  went  hee. 
towards  Sattin,  I  vnderstand, 
a  ffortnight  he  went  on  Land, 

&  alsoe  soe  long  on  sea. 
360     itt  ffell  againe  in  the  enen  tyde, 
in  the  fforrest  he  did  ryde 

wheras  the  bore  shold  bee  ; 
&  tydings  of  the  bore  soone  hee  ffound ; 
364     by  him  men  Lay  dead  on  many  a  Land,1 
thai  pittye  itt  was  to  see. 


Next 
morning 


he  hears  the 
boar's  cry, 


and  sees  it 
come  from 
the  sea. 


31 

Sir  Eglamore  that  "Knight  awoke,2 
&  prinilye  lay  vnder  an  oke ; 
368         till  morrow  the  sun  shone  bright, 
in  the  fforrest  ffast  did  hee  lye  ; 
of  the  bore  he  hard  a  crye,3 

&  neerer  he  gan  gone  right. 
372     ffaire  helmes  he  ffound  in  fere 

that  men  of  armes  had  lefft  there, 

that  the  bore  had  slaine. 
Eglamore  to  the  cliffe  went  hee, 
376     he  saw  the  bore  come  from  the  sea, 
his  morne  draught 4  had  he  tane. 


1  The    Lawnd    in    woodes.      Saltus 
nemorum.      Baret.      Saltus,     woodland 
pasture. — F. 

2  The  last  words  of  these  lines  are 
interchanged.    T.  has : 


Syr  Egyllamowre  restyd  hym  undur  an 

oke; 
Tylle  on  the  morowe  that  he  can  wake. 

8  on  the  see  he  harde  a  sowe. — T. 

4  morne  drynke. — T. 


EGLAMOEE. 


355 


32 

the  bore  saw  where  the  ~K.nighi  stood, 
his  tuskes  he  whetted  as  he  were l  wood, 
380        to  him  he  drew  that  tyde. 

Sir  Eglamore  weened  well  what  to  doe, 
with  a  speare  he  rode  him  to 

as  ffast  as  he  might  ryde. 
384     all  if  hee  2  rode  neuer  soe  fiast, 
the  good  speare  assunder  brast, 

it  wold  not  in  the  hyde. 
thai  bore  did  him  woe  enoughe, 
388     his  good  horsse  vnder  him  he  slough ; 
on  ffoote  then  must  hee  byde. 


The  boar 


towards 
him ; 
Eglamore 
rides  at  it, 


but  breaks 
his  spear, 

and  the 
boar  kills 
his  horse. 


33 

Eglamore  saw  no  boote  thai  tyde, 
but  to  an  oake  he  sett  his  side 
392         amongst  the  trees  great ; 

his  good  sword  he  drew  out  then, 
&  smote  vpon  3  the  wild  swine 

2  dayes  &  some  deale  more ;  4 
396     till  the  3*  day  att  noone 

Eglamore  thought  his  liffe  was  doone 

for  fnghtting  with  that  bore ;  * 
then  Eglamore  with  Egar  mood 
400     smote  of  the  bores  head ; 

his  tuskes  he  smote  of  thore. 


He  puts  his 
side  to  an 
oak, 


cuts  at  the 
boar  two 
days, 


till  he's 
nearly  dead, 


but  then 
kills  it. 


34 


5  the  "King  of  Sattin  on  hunting  fare 
with  15  armed  men  &  more ; 


The  King  of 
Sattin 


1  The  first  e  is  made  o*er  an  h  in  the 
MS.— F. 

2  Gyf  he.— T. 

8  fyghtyth  with. — T. 

4  Thre  dayes  and  more. — T. 

8  The  Thornton  version  makes  Egylla- 


mowre  only  break  off  the  boar's  tusks  in 
the  preceding  stanza,  omits  lines  2,  5,  7, 
of  this,  and  has  here: 
He  thankyd  God  that  ylke  stownde, 
And  gaf  the  bore  hys  dethys  wound, 
The  boke  of  Kome  thus  can  telle.— F. 


356 


EGLAMORE. 


hears  the 
boar  yell, 


and  sends  a 
squire  to  see 
who's  in 
danger. 

The  squire 


sees  Egla- 
more 

fighting  the 
boar. 


404  the  bore  loud  hard  he  yell ; 
he  camanded  a  squier  to  ffare, 
"  some  man  is  in  his  perill  there  ! 

I  trow  to  long  wee  dwell." 
408     no  longer  wold  the  sqiuer  tarry, 
but  rode  fast  thither,  by  S*  Marye, 

he  was  therto  ffiill  snell  *  ; 
vp  to  the  cliffe  rode  hee  thore ; 

412     S^r  Eglamore  ffought  ffast  w^'th  the  bore    [page  soi] 
with  stroakes  ffeirce  &  ffell. 


He  tells  the 
King  the 
boar  is 
slain 
by  a  knight 


with  a  blue 
shield 


and  black 
spurs. 


The  King 


finds 

Eglamore 
lying  down, 


35 

the  squier  stood  &  beheld  them  2, 
hee  went  againe  and  told  soe, 
416         "  fforsooth  the  bore  is  slaine." 

"Lord!  S!Mary!  how  may  this  bee ?" 
"  a  ~K.night  is  yonder  certainly e 

that  was  the  bores  bane ; 
420     "  of  gold  he  beareth  a  seemly  sight, 
in  a  ffeeld  of  azure  an  armed  ~K.night, 

to  battell  as  hee  shold  gone  ; 
&  on  the  crest  vpon  the  head  is 
424     a  Ladye  made  in  her  likenesse  ; 
his  spnres  are  sable  eche  one." 

36 

the  King  said,  "  soe  mote  I  thee, 
those  rich  armers  I  will  see :  " 
428         &  thither  hee  tooke  the  way. 
by  that  time  S^r  Eglamore 
had  ouercome  the  sharp  stoure, 
&  ouerthawrt  the  bore  Lay.2 
432  the  King  said,  "  god  rest  w&h  thee  !  " 

"my  Lon2,"  said  Eglamore,  "  welcome  be  yee, 


query  MS.  siell.— F. 


2  And  to  reste  hym  down  he  lay. — T. 


EGLAMORE. 


357 


436 


of  peace  now  I  thee  pray ! 
I  haue  soe  ffoughten  with  the  bore 
thai  certainlye  I  may  noe  more  ; 

this  is  the  3d  day." 


exhausted  ; 


37 

they  all  said  anon-right, 
"  great  sinn  itt  were  with  thee  to  ffiglit, 
440         or  to  doe  thee  any  teene  ; 

manffully  thou  hast  slaine  this  bore 
that  hath  done  hurt  sore, 

&  many  a  mans  death  hath  beene  ; 
444     thou  hast  manfully  vnder  sheeld 
slaine  this  bore  in  the  ffeild, 

that  all  wee  haue  seene  ! 
this  haue  I  wist,  the  sooth  to  say, 
448     he  hath  slaine  40  l  on  a  day 

of  my  armed  knights  keene  !  2 


praises  him 
for  killing 
the  boar 


that  had 
slain  so 
many 
knights ; 


38 

meat  &  drinke  they  him  brought, 
rich  wine  they  spared  nought, 
452         &  white  clothes  they  spread, 
the  ~King  said,  "  soe  mote  I  thee, 
I  will  dine  for  loue  of  thee  ; 

thou  hast  been  hard  bestead." 
456     "  forsoooth,"  then  Sir  Eglainore  saies, 
"  I  haue  ffought  these  4  dayes,3 
and  not  a  ffoote  him  ffledd." 
then  said  the  King,  "  I  pray  thee 
460     all  night  to  dwell  with  mee, 
&  rest  thee  on  a  bedd." 


provides  him 
meat  and 
v/ine ; 


dines  with 
him, 


and  askg 
him  home  to 
sleep. 


1  syxty.— T. 

3  Welle  annyd  men  and  clene. — T. 
8  The  three  days  have  grown  to  four. 
T.  has : 


"Ye,"  he  seyde,  "pennafay, 
Now  hyt  ys  the  fyrste  day 

That  evyr  oon  fote  y  fledd."— F. 


358 


EGLAMORE. 


Eglamore 
tells  the 
King 
what  his 
name  is, 


and  the 
King  tells 
him  of  a 


39 

&  after  meate,  the  soothe  to  say, 
the  King  Sir  Eglamore  did  pray 
464         "  of  what  country  hee  was." 

"  my  name,"  he  said,  "  is  Sir  Eglamore  l : 
I  dwell  alsoe  w^th  Sir  Prinsamoure, 

thai  Erie  is  of  artoys." 
468     then  Lords  to  the  ~Kmg  drew, 

"  this  is  hee  thai  Sir  Marroccke  slew, 

the  gyants  brother  Mamasse.2 
"  S^r,"  said  the  King,  "  I  pray  thee 
472    these  3  dayes  to  dwell  with  mee, 
from  rn.ee  thou  shalt  not  passe ; 


Giant  near 
who  wants 
to  seize  his 
daughter, 


and  is 

Marrocke's 

brother. 


No  one  can 
cut  up  the 
boar 


40 

"  there  dwelleth  a  Gyant  here  beside  ; 
my  daughter  thai  is  of  micklell  pride, 
476         he  wold  haue  me  ffroe; 
I  dare  to  no  place  goe  out 
but  men  of  armes  be  me  about, 

for  dread  of  my  foe.3 
480    the  bore  thou  hast  slaine  here, 

thai  hath  liued  here  this  15  yeere4 

christen  men  for  to  sloe, 

Now  is  he  gone  with  sorrow  enough         [page  3013  5 
484     to  [berye  6]  his  brother  thai  thou  slough." 
[that  evyrmore  be  hym  woo  !  7] 

41 

to  break  8  the  bore  they  went  ffull  tyte  ; 
there  was  noe  kniffe  thai  wold  him  bitte,9 


1  He  said  "My  name  is  Syr  Awntour." 
— T. 

2  Yondur  ys  he  that  Arrok  slowee, 

The  yeauntys  brodur  Maras. — T. 

3  Fulle  seldome  have  y  thus  sene  soo. 
— T. 

*  He  hath  fedd  hym  xv  yere. — T. 


5  There  are  two  pages  301  in  the  MS., 
and  no  page  302. — F. 

6  berye.— T. 

7  From  the  Thornton  MS.— F. 

8  splatt.— T. 

9  Query  MS.;   it  may  be  Jcitte.—F. 
byte.— T. 


EGLAMORE. 


359 


488        soe  hard  of  hyde  was  hee. 

"  Sir  Eglamore,1  thou  him  sloughe  ; 
I  trow  thy  sword2  be  good  enough; 

haue  done,  I  pray  thee."  3 
492     Eglamore  to  the  bore  gan  gone, 
&  claue  him  by  the  ridge  4  bone, 

that  ioy  itt  was  to  see  ; 
"  Lordings,"  he  said,  "  great  &  small,5 
496     giue  me  the  head,  &  take  you  all ; 
for  why,  that  is  my  fiee." 

42 

the  King  said,  "  soe  god  me  saue  ! 
the  head  thou  shalt  haue ; 
500         thou  hast  itt  bought  full  deere  !  "  6 
all  the  countrye  was  ffaine, 
for  the  wild  7  bore  was  slaine, 

they  made  ffull  royall  cheere. 

504     the  Queene  said,  "  god  send  8  vs  from  shame  ! 
ffor  when  the  Gyant  cometh  home, 
new  tydings  shall  be  here.9  " 

43 

against  euen  the  King  did  dight 
508     a  bath  fibr  that  gentle  ~Knight, 


but  Egla 
more, 


who  claims 
only  his 
head. 


The  people 
rejoice  at  the 
boar's 
death. 


Syr  Awntour,  seyde  the  kyng. — T. 
knyfe.— T. 

G-yf  that  thy  wyllo  bee. — T. 
A.-Sax.  kricg,  ricg,  the  back. — F. 
Lorde,  seyde  the  knyght,  y  dud  hym 
falle.— T. 

6  Aftur  cartys  can  they  sende  ; 
Ageyn  none  home  with  that  they 

wende, 
The  cyte  was  them  nere. — T. 

7  wekyd.— T. 

8  schylde.— T. 

9  gete  we  sone. — T.,  and  it  adds,  p.  142: 
For  he  ys  stronge  and  stowte, 

And  therof  y  have  mekylle  dowte 

That  he  wylle  do  us  grete  dere  or  we 
have  done. 


Syr  Egyllamowre,  that  nobylle  kny^t, 
Was     sett    with    the    kynges    doghtyr 
bryght, 

For  that  he  scholde  be  blythe. 
The    maydenys    name    was    Organata 

so  fre ; 
Sche  preyeth  hym  of  gode  chere  to  bee, 

And  besechyd  hym  so  many  a  sythe. 
Aftur  mete  sche  can  hym  telle 
How  that  geant  wolde  them  quelle : 

The  knyght  began  to  lagh  anone ; 
"  Damyselle,"  he  seyde,  "so  mote  y  thee, 
And  he  come  whylle  y  here  bee, 

Y  schalle  hym  assay  sone !" 


360 


EGLAMOEE. 


Eglamore 
lies  in  a 
bath  all 
night. 


thai  was  of  Erbes l  good. 
Sir  Eglamore  therin  Lay 
till  itt  was  light  of  the  day, 
512        thai  men  to  Mattins  2  yode. 


[Part  IE.3] 


[How  Eglamore  kills  another  Giant,  and  a  Dragon  near  Rome,  and 
begets  a  Boy  on  Christabell.] 


Next 
morning 
the  Giant 


and  demands 
the  King's 
daughter 
Amada. 


Eglamore 


tells  a  squire 

to  show  the 
Giant  the 
boar's  head. 


The  Giant 


swears  he'll 
avenge  its 
death, 


516 


By  the  time  he  had  heard  masse, 
the  Gyant  to  this  place  come  was, 

&  cryed  as  hee  were  wood  ; 
"  Sir  "King,"  he  said,  "  send  vnto  mee 
Arnada 4  thy  daughter  ffree, 

or  I  shall 5  spill  thy  blood." 

44 

Sir  Eglamore  anon-right 6 
520         in  good  armour  he  him  dight, 

&  vpon  the  walles  he  yode  7  ; 
he  camanded  a  squier  to  beare 
the  bores  head  vpon  a  speare, 
524         thai  the  Gyant  might  itt 8  see. 
&  when  he  looked  on  the  head, 
"  alas !  "  he  said,9  "  art  thou  dead  ? 

my  trust  was  all  in  thee  ! 
528     now  by  the  Law  thai  I  Hue  in,10 
my  litle  speckeled  hoglin,11 

deare  bought  shall  thy  death  bee  !  " 


1  Sibes. — P.     The  MS.  is   indistinct, 
and  the  Bishop  explains  it.     See  the 
way  to  prepare  a  bath  in  Russel's  Boke 
of  Nurture,  Babees  BoJce  $c.  E.'K.  lext 
Soc.  1868,  p.  182-5. 

2  mete. — T. 

8  T.  ends  its  secondefytt'mt'h  stanza  52, 
1.  611  below.— F. 
4  Organata.— T. 


5  thou  schalt. — T. 

6  that  nobylle  knyght.— T. 

7  for  '  yode  he.' — F.  wendyth  hee. — T. 

8  Maras  myght  hym. — T. 

9  my  bore.— T. 

10  leve  ynne. — T. 

11  spote  hoglyn. — T.     Fr.  cochonnet,  a 
shote  or  shete  pigge,  a  prettie  big  pig. 
— Cotgrave. 


EGLAMORE. 


361 


45 

the  Gyant  on  the  walls  donge  ; 
532     att  euery  stroke  fyer  out  spronge ; 

for  nothing  wold  he  spare, 
towards  the  castle  gan  he  crye, 
"  false  traitor  !  thou  shalt  dye  1 
536         for  slaying  of  my  bore  ! 

your  strong  walles  I  doe  2  downe  ding, 
&  w^th  my  hands  I  shall  the  hange  3 

ere  tliat  I  ffarther  passe.4" 
540     but  through  the  grace  of  god  almight, 
the  Gyant  had  his  mil  of  fight, 
&  therto  some  deale  more.5 


and 

threatens  to 
kill  Egla- 
more. 


46  'J 

S?r  Eglamore  was  not  agast ; 

544     on  might-ffull  god  was  all  his  trust, 

&  on  his  sword  soe  good, 
to  Eglamore  said  the  JLing  then, 
"  best  is  to  arme  vs  euerye  man  ; 

548         this  theefe,  I  hold  him  woode." 

476 

Sir  Eglamore  sware  by  the  roode, 
"  I  shall  him  assay  if  hee  were  wood  ; 

mickle  is  gods  might !  " 
552     he  rode  a  course  to  say  his  steed, 

he  tooke  his  helme  &  forth  hee  yeede  ; 

All  men  prayed  for  that  Knight. 

48 

S^r  Eglamore  into  the  ffeild  taketh ; 
556     the  Gyant  see  him,7  &  to  him  goeth  ; 


Eglamore 
trusts  in 
God  and  his 
good  sword, 


[page  303] 


gives  his 
steed  a 
gallop, 


takes  the 
field, 


1  Thevys,  traytures,  ye  schalle  abye. 
-T. 

2  schalle.— T.  *  hynge.— T. 

4  fare,  qu. — P.     Or  that  y  hens  fare. 
-T.  5  mair.— P. 

VOL.  II.  B  B 


6  T.   makes    one    stanza,   XLIX,   of 
these,  p.  144-5,  and  alters  the  arrange 
ment  of  the  lines,  &c. — F. 

7  him  has  a  line  through  it. — F. 


362 


EG  LAHORE. 


and  charges 
the  Giant, 


who  upsets 
him  and  his 
horse. 


"welcome,"  he  said,  " my  ffeere  ! 
thou  art  hee  thai  slew l  my  bore  ! 
that  shalt  thou  repent  ffull  sore, 
560         &  buy  itt  wonderous  deere  !  " 

Sir  Eglamore  weened  well  what  to  doe ; 
w^'th  a  speare  he  rode  him  to, 

as  a  man  of  armes  cleere. 
564     against  him  the  Gyant  was  redy  bowne, 
but  horsse  &  man  he  bare  all  downe, 

that  dead  he  was  ffull  nere. 


Eglamore 


attacks  him 
on  foot, 


and  cuts  off 
the  Giant's 
right  arm, 


but  he 
fights  on 
till  sun 
down, 


and  then 
drops  dead. 


They  ring 

the  bells ; 

King 

Edward 

promises 

to  crown 

Eglamore 


49 

Sir  Eglamore  cold  noe  better  read, 
568     but  what  time  his  horsse  was  dead, 

to  his  ffoote  he  hath  him  tane  ; 
&  then  Eglamore  to  him  gan  goe  ; 
the  right  arme  he  smote  him  froe, 
572         euen  by  the  sholder  bone ; 
&  tho  he  2  had  lost  his  hand, 
all  day  hee  stood  a  ffightand 

till  the  ssun  to  rest  gan  goe ; 
576     3  the  sooth  to  say,  withouten  lye, 
he  sobbed  &  was  soe  drye 
that  liffe  him  lasteth  none. 

50 

all  that  on  the  walles  were, 
580     when  they  heard  the  Gyant  rore, 

ffor  ioy  the  bells  the  ring. 
Edmond  was  the  ~Kings  4  name, 
swore  to  Sir  Eglamore,  "  by  St.  lame, 
584         here  shalt  thou  be  ~King  I 


1  Y  trowe  thou  halpe  to  sle.— T. 

2  Thowe  the  lorelle. — T. 

3  Then  was  he  so  wery  he  my3t  not 

stonde, 


The  blode  ran  so  faste  fro  hym  on 

every  honde, 
That  lyfe  dayes  hadd  he  nevyr  oon. 

r£ 

4  kynges.— T. 


EGLAMORE. 


363 


"  to-morrow  thow  shalt  crowned  bee, 
&  thou  shalt  wed  my  daughter  ffree 

with  a  curyous  rich  ringe  !  " 
588     Eglamore  answered  with  words  mild  : 
"god  *  giue  you  ioy  of  yowr  child  ! 

ffor  here  I  may  not  abyde  longe.2  " 

51 

"Sir  Eglamore,  for  thy  doughty e  deedc 
592     thou  shalt  not  be  called  lewd 

in  noe  place  where  thou  goe  !  "  3 
then  said  Arnada,4  that  sweete  thing, 
"  haue  here  of  me  a  gold  ring 
596         with  a  precyous  stone  ; 

where-soe  you  bee  on  water  or  Land, 
&  this  ring  vpon  yo?«*  hand, 
nothing  may  you  slone." 

52 

GOO     "  gramercy  !  "  sayd  Eglamore  ffree. 
"  this  15  yeeres  will  I  abyde  thec, 

soe  that  you  will  me  wed  ; 
this  will  I  sweare,  soe  god  me  saue, 
604     ~K.ing  ne  Prince  nor  none  will  haue, 

if  they  be  comlye  cladd  !  " 
"damsell,"  he  said,  "by  my  fFay, 
by  that  time  I  will  you  say 
608         how  that  I  haue  spedd." 

he  tooke  the  Gyants  head  &  the  bore, 
&  towards  Artoys  did  he  ffare, 
god  helpe  me  att  neede  !  5 


and  marry 
him  to  his 
daughter. 


Eglamore 
declines  the 
yonng  lady, 


though  she 
gives  him  a 
charmed 
ring 


and  offers  to 
wait  fifteen 
years  for 
him. 


He  puts  her 
off, 


and  starts 

towards 

Artoys. 


1  Syr.— T.      2  may  ye  not  lende.— T. 

3  Y  schalle  geve  the  a  nobylle  stede, 

Al  so  redd  as  ony  roone ; 
Yn  yustyngne  in  turnement, 
Thou   schaft    never    soffur    dethys 

wound 

"Why lie  thou  syttyst  hym  upon. 
— T. 

4  Seyde  Organata.— T. 


The   knyght  takyth   hys  leve   and 

farys, 
Wyth  the  geauntys  hedd  and  the 

borys, 
The  weyes  owre  Lord  wylle  hym 

lede. 

Thys  ys  the  secondefytt  of  thys : 
Make  we  mery,  so  have  we  blys, 
For  ferre  have  we  to  rede. — T. 


B  B  2 


364 


EGLAMORE. 


In  seven 
weeks  Egla- 
more  reaches 
Artoys, 


is  greeted  by 
Christabell, 


53 

612     by  that  7  weekes  were  conien  to  end, 
euen  att  Artoys  lie  did  lend, 
wheras  Prinsamoure  was. 
the  Erie  therof  was  greatly  faine 
616     that  Eglamore  was  come  againe ; 
soe"  was  both  more1  and  lesse. 
when  Christabell  as  white  as  swan, 
heard  tell  how  Eglamore  was  come, 
620         to  him  shee  went  full  yare  ; 2 


whom  he 


but  her 
father  says, 
"Devil  take 
you,  will 
nothing  kill 
you? 


You  want 
my  land  and 
my  daughter 
I  suppose." 


54 

the  ~K.night  kissed  that  Lady  gent, 
then  into  the  hall  hee  went 

the  Erie  for  to  teene. 
624     The  Erie  answered,  &  was  ffull  woe 

"  what  devill !  may  nothing  thee  sloe  ? 

forsooth,  right  as  I  weene, 
thou  art  about,  as  I  vnderstand, 
628     for  to  winn  Artoys  &  all  my  Land, 
&  alsoe  my  daughter  cleane." 


[page  304] 


"  I  do,"  says 
Eglamore. 


"Oh! 
perhaps 
you'll  get 
killed  yet." 


Eglamore 
asks  for 
twelve  weeks 


55 

S^r  Eglamore  said,  "  soe  mote  I  thee, 

not  but  if  I  worthy  bee ; 
632         soe  god  giue  me  good  read  !  "  3 

the  Erie  said,  "  such  chance  may  ffall, 

that  one  may  come  &  quitt  all, 

be  thou  neuer  so  prest." 
636     "  but  good  Lon#,  I  you  pray, 

of  12  weekes  to  giue  me  day, 


1  One  stroke  too  many  in  the  MS.  m. 
— F. 

2  T.  adds : 

*Syr,"    sche     seyde,     "how    haue    ye 
faryn  ?  " 


"  Damycelle,  wele,  and  in  travelle  byn 
To  brynge  us  bothe  owt  of  care." 

8  Helpe  G-od  that  ys  beste.— T. 


EGLAMORE. 


365 


my  weary  body  to  rest." 
12  weekes  were  granted  then 
640     by  prayer  of  many  l  a  gentleman, 
&  comforted  him  w^th  the  best. 

56 

Sir  Eglamore  after  supper 
went  to  Christabclls  chamber 
644         with  torches  burning  bright. 

the  Ladye  was  of  soe  great  pride,2 
shee  sett  him  on  her  bedside, 

&  said,  "  welcome,  Sir  Knight !  " 
648     then  Eglamore  did  her  tell 
of  adventures  thai  him  befell, 

but  there  he  dwelled  all  night. 
"  damsell,"  he  said,  "  soe  god  me  speed, 
652     I  hope  in  god  you  for  to  wedd  !" 

&  then  their  trothes  they  plight.3 

57 

by  thai  12  weekes  were  come  &  gone, 
Christabbell  thai  was  as  faire  as  sunn,4 
656         all  wan  waxed  her  he  we. 

shee  said  vnto  her  maidens  ffree, 
"  in  thai  yee  know  my  priuitye,5 

looke  thai  yee  bee  trew  !  " 
660     the  Erie  angerlye  gan  ffare, 

he  said  to  Eglamore,  "  make  thee  yare 

for  thy  lourriey  a-new  !  " 
When  Christabell  therof  heard  tell,6 
664     shee  mourned  night  &  day, 

thai  all  men  might  her  rue. 


after  supper 
goes  to 
Christabell's 
chamber, 


stays  there 
all  "night, 
and  begets  a 
sou  on  her. 


In  twelve 

weeks 

Christabell 

grows  wan, 

and  begs  her 
maids  to 
keep  her 
secret. 


The  Earl 
orders  Egla 
more  off, 


and  Chri.-ta- 
bell  mourns. 


1  Only  half  the  n  is  in  the  MS. — F. 

2  was  not  for  to  hyde.— T. 

3  T.  adds : 

So  gracyously  he  come  hur  tylle, 
Of  poyntes  of  armys   he   schewyd 

hur  hys  fylle, 
That  there  they  dwellyd  alle  ny3t. 


4  as  whyte  as  fome. — T. 

3  Sche  prayed  hur  gentylle  women  so 

fre, 

That  they  would  layne  hur  privyto. 
— T. 
0  say.-P. 


366 


EGLAMORE. 


Eglamore's 
Third  Deed 
of  Arms  is  to 
kill  a  strong 
Dragon  near 
Rome. 


58 

the  Erie  said,  "  there  is  xnee  told  long, 
beside  Roome  there  is  a  dragon  strong ; 
668         forsooth  as  I  you  say, 

the  dragon  is  of  such  renowne 

there  dare  noe  man  come  neere  the  towne 

by  5  miles  and  more ; l 
672     anne  thee  well  &  thither  wend  ; 

looke  that  thou  slay  him  w^th  thy  hand, 
or  else  2  say  mee  nay." 


Eglamore 
takes  leave 


of  Chruta- 
bell, 


gives  her  a 
gold  ring, 


and  goes  to 
Rome. 


59 

Sir  Eglamore  to  the  chamber  went, 
676     &  tooke  his  leaue  of  the  Ladye  gent, 

white  as  mower  on  ffeelde  3  ; 
"  damsell,"  he  said,  "  I  haue  to  doone  ; 
I  am  to  goe,  &  come  againe  right  soone 
680         through  the  might  of  Marry  mild. 
a  gold  ring  I  will  giue  thee  ; 
keepe  itt  well  for  the  loue  of  mee 

if  christ  send  me  a  child." 
684     &  then,  in  Romans  as  wee  say, 
to  great  roome  he  tooke  his  way, 
to  seeke  the  dragon  wild.4 


The  Dragon 
throws  down 
him  and  his 
horse. 


60 

if  he  were  neuer  soe  hardye  a  K.night, 
fi88     when  of  the  dragon  he  had  a  sight, 

his  hart  began  to  be  cold.5 
anon  the  dragon  waxed  wrothe, 
he  smote  S^r  Eglamore  &  his  steed  bothe, 
692         that  both  to  ground  they  ffell.6 


1  Be  xv.  myle  of  way. — T. 

2  ellys  thou. — T.     After  nay  T.  adds 
six  lines  not  in  our  text. — F. 

3  in  may. — P. 

4  The  Thornton  text  adds  : 


Tokenynges  sone  of  hym  he  fonde, 
Slayne  men  on  every  honde ; 

Be  hunderdes  he  them  tolde. — F. 

5  to  folde.— T. 

6  To  the  grounde  so  colde. — T. 


EGLAMORE. 


367 


Eglamore  rose,  &  to  him  sett, 
&  on  that  ffowle  wonne  hee  bett 
stroakes  many  and  bold  l 


[page  305] 


Eglamore 
attacks  the 
Dragon, 


61 

696     the  dragon  shott  fire  with  his  mouth 

like  the  devill  of  hell; 
Sir  Eglamore  neere  him  gan  goe, 
&  smote  his  taile  halfe  him  ffroe  2 ; 
700         then  he  began  to  yell, 

&  with  the  stumpe  that  yett  was  leaned 
he  smote  Sir  Eglamore  on  the  head ; 
that  stroake  was  ffeirce  and  ffell. 


cuts?  half  its 
tail  off, 


is  wounded 
himself  in 
the  head, 


62 

704     "  Sir  Eglamore  neere  him  gan  goe, 
the  dragons  head  he  smote  of  thoe, 

fforsooth  as  I  you  say, 
his  wings  he  smote  of  alsoe,3 
708     he  smote  the  ridge  bone  in  2, 

&  wan  the  ffeild  that  day. 
the  Emperour  of  Roome  Lay  4  in  his  tower 
&  ffast  beheld  Sir  Eglamore, 
712         &  to  his  JLnights  gan  say, 

"  doe  cry  in  Roome,  the  dragons  slaine  ! 
a  knigh[t]  him  slew  with  might  &  maine, 

manfully,  by  my  ffay  !  " 
716     through  Roome  they  made  a  crye, 
euery  officer  in  his  baylye, 

"  the  dragon  is  slaine  this  day  !  " 

63 

&  then  the  Emperour  tooke  the  way 
720         to  the  place  where  Eglamore  Lay, 


but  kills  the 
Dragon. 


The 

Emperor 
Constantino 
of  Rome 


orders  the 
Dragon's 
death  to  be 
proclaimed, 


then  goes  to 
Eglamore, 


1  Wyth  byttur  dynte  and  felle.— T. 

2  Halfe  the  tonge  he  stroke  away.— T. 
8  The    knyght    seyde,    "  Now   am  y 

schente !  " 


Nere  that  wyckyd  worme  he  went; 

Hys  hedd  he  stroke  away. — T. 
stode.— T. 


368 


EGLAMORE. 


brings  him 
to  Rome, 
and  the 
people  meet 
him  in 
procession. 


beside  that  ffoule  thing, 
with  all  that  might  ride  or  gone. 
Sir  Eglamore  they  haue  vp  tane, 
724         &  to  the  towne  they  can  him  bring ; 
ffor  ioy  that  they  dragon  was  slaine, 
they  came  with  procession  him  againe, 

and  bells  they  did  ringe. 

728     the  Emperour  of  Roome  brought  him  soone, 
Constantine,  that  was  his  name, 

a  Lore?  of  great  Longinge. 


Constan 
tino's 
daughter 
Vyardus 


heals  Egla- 
more's  head. 


his  life. 


64 

1  all  that  euer  saw  his  head, 
732     the  said  that  Eglamore  was  but  dead, 

that  "Knight  Sir  Eglamore. 
the  Emperour  had  a  daughter  bright, 
shee  vndertooke  to  heale  the  K.night, 
736         her  name  was  vyardus.2 

3  with  good  salues  shee  healed  his  head 
&  saued  him  firom  the  dead, 

that  Lady  of  great  valours  : 
740     &  there  within  a  little  stond 

shee  made  Sir  Eglamore  whole  &  sound ; 
god  giue  her  honor  !  3 


1  T.  omits  the  next  three  lines. — F. 

2  ys  Dawntowre. — T. 

3-3  The  Thornton  text  has  for  these : 
Scho  savys  hym  fro  the  dedd, 
And  with  hur  handys  sche  helyth  hys 
hedd 

A  twelmonth  in  hur  bowre. 


It  then  adds  two  stanzas  of  twelves, 
(LXVII,  LXVIII,  p.  153-4)  telling  how 
the  Emperor  had  the  Dragon's  body 
fetched  into  Eome,  and  put  in  "seynt 
Laurens  kyrke."  As  to  this  church,  see 
Stations  of  Rome,  p.  13 ;  Pol.  Eel.  $  Love 
?,  p.  132.  p.  xxxv. — F. 


EGLAMORE. 


369 


[Part  IV.] 

[How  Christabell's  child  is  born,  and  a  Griffin  flics  away  with  it.] 


65 

Anon  word  came  to  Artois 
744          how  thai  the  dragon  slaine  was : 
a  Knight  that  deede  had  done, 
soe  long  at  the  Leeche-craft  he  did  dwell, 
parte  J   that  a  ffaire  sonne l  had  Christabell 
748  as  white  as  whales  bone.2 

then  the  Erie  made  his  vow, 
"  daughter  !  into  the  sea  shalt  thou 

in  a  shipp  thy  selfe  alone  ! 
752     Thy  younge  sonne  shall  be  thy  fere,3 
christendome  4  getteth  itt  none  here  !  " 
her  maidens  wept  eche  one. 


While  Egla- 
more  is 
under  the 
doctor's 
hands, 
Christabell 
has  a  son. 

Her  father 
vows  hn'll 
send  her  and 
her  brat  out 
to  sea  alone. 


5  her  mother  in  swoone  did  ffall, 
756     right  soe  did  her  ffreinds  all 

that  wold  her  any  good, 
"good  Lord,"  she  said,  "  I  you  pray, 
let  some  prest  a  gospell  say, 
760         ffor  doubt  of  ffeeiides  in  the  fflood. 

ffarwell,"  shee  said,  "  my  maidens  ffrec  ! 
greet  well  my  Lord  when  you  him  see." 

they  wept  as  they  were  woode. 
764     Leaue  wee  now  Sir  Eglamore, 

And  speake  wee  more  of  that  Ladye  fflower 
that  vnknown  wayes  yeelde.6 


Christabell 
prays  that  a 
priest  may 
say  a  gospel 
for  them, 

and  takes 
leave  of  her 
maidens. 


[page  30G] 


1  A  man-chylde. — T. 

2  Some  ancient  writers  imagined  ivory, 
formerly  made   from   the   teeth   of  the 
walrus,  to  be  formed  from  the  bones  of 
the  whale.     Halliwell's  Gloss.— F. 

3  And   that  bastard  that  to   the  ys 


dere. — T. 

4  christening. — F. 

8  T.  inserts  a  stanza  and  a  quarter 
here,  p.  154-5,  but  leaves  out  the  mother's 
swooning. — F. 

6  yeede.— P. 


370 


EGLAMOKE. 


Her  ship 
comes  to  a 
rock, 


she  lands, 


finds  only 
birds  and 
beasts  there, 

and  a  griffin 
carries  her 
boy  off  to  a 

strange 
country, 


the  King  of 
Isarell's 


land. 


A  Gentle 
woman  picks 
up  the  boy. 


67 

the  shipp  drone  fforth  night  &  day 
768     vp  to  a  rocke,  the  sooth  to  say, 

where  wild  beasts  did  ran.1 
shee  was  ffnll  ffaine,  I  vnderstand, 
shee  wend  shee  had  beene  in  some  [known2]  Land, 
772         &  vp  then  gan  shee  wend. 

noe  manner  of  men  ffound  shee  there, 
that  ffoules  &  beasts  that  were  there, 

ffast  they  ffled  ffrom  Land. 

776     there  came  a  Griffon  3  that  ronght  her  care  ; 
her  younge  child  away  hee  bare 
Into  a  conntrye  vnknowne.4 

68 

the  Ladye  wept,  &  said  "  alas 
780     that  euer  shee  borne  was  ! 

my  child  is  taken  me  ffroe  !  " 
the  ~K.ing  of  Isarell  on  huntinge  went ; 
he  saw  where  the  ffoule  lent ; 
784         towards  him  gan  he  goe. 

a  griffon,  the  booke  saith  that  he  hight, 
that  in  Isarell  did  light, 

that  wrought  that  Ladye  woe. 
788     the  ffoule  smote  him  w^th  his  bill, 
the  child  cryed  and  liked  ill ; 
the  griffon  then  lefft  him  there. 

69 

a  gentlewoman  to  that  [child  5]  gan  passe, 
792     &  lapp[t]  itt  in  a  mantle  of  Scarlett  was, 
&  w^th  a  rich  pane.6 


\ 


1  feede.— P. 

2  there  had  be  a  kende  londe. — T. 

8  a  grype. — T.  Fr.  griffon,  a  grype  or 
griffon. — Cotgrave.  Grype,  byrde,  vul- 
tur ;  Promptorhim :  see  Mr.  Way's  note 
to  it,  p.  212-13.— F. 


4  unknowe.—  -P. 

5  a  squyer  to  the  chylde. — T. 

6  Pane  of  furre,  panne  (Palsgrave) ; 
Panne  a  skinne,  fell  or  hide  (Cotgrave) ; 
from  L.  pannus,  Way.    Cp.  counterpane. 
— F. 


EGLAMOKE. 


371 


the  child  was  large  of  lim  &  lythe, 
a  girdle  of  gold  itt  was  bound  with, 
796         with  worsse  cloth  itt  was  cladd. 
the  Km*/  swore  by  the  rood, 
"  the  child  is  come  of  gentle  blood, 

whersoeuer  that  hee  was  tane  ; 
800     &  for  he  ffroe  the  Griffon  ffelJ, 
they  named  the  child  degrabell, 
that  lost  was  in  wilsome  way. 


The  King 


christens 
him  Degra 
bell, 


the  King  wold  hunt  noe  more  that  tyde, 
804     but  with  the  child  homeward  gan  ryde, 

that  ffrom  the  Griffon  was  hent. 
"Madam,"  he  said  to  his  Queene, 
"  ffull  oft  I  haue  a  hunting  beene ; 
808         this  day  god  hath  me  lent." 
of  that  Child  he  was  blythe  ; 
after  nurses  shee  went  beliue  ; 
the  child  was  louelye  gent. 
812     leaue  wee  now  of  this  chyldc, 
&  talke  wee  of  his  mother  mild, 
to  what  Land  god  her  sent. 


and  takes 
him  home  to 
his  wife, 


who  gets 
nurses  for 
him. 


Meantime, 
Christabell 


71 

all  that  night  on  the  rocke  shee  Lay  ; 
816     a  wind  rose  vpon  the  l  day, 

&  ffrom  the  Land  her  driueth. 
in  that  shipp  was  neither  mast  nor  ore, 
but  euery  streame  vpon  other 
820         that  ffast  vpon  her  driueth. 

&  as  the  great  booke  of  Roome  saies, 
shee  was  without  meate  5  dayes 
among  the  great  cliffes.2 


leaves  her 
rock, 


is  driven 
about  the 
sea, 


days, 


ageynys. — T. 


MS.  cliiffes.— F. 


372 


EGLAMORE. 


and  then 

reaches 

Egypt. 


The  King 


squire  to  her. 


Christabell 
cannot  speak 
to  the  squire, 


824     by  that  5  dayes  were  gone, 
god  sent  her  succour  soone  ; 
in  cegipt l  shee  arriued. 

72 

the  ~King  of  -^Bgipt l  lay  in  his  tower, 
828     &  saw  the  Ladye  as  white  as  fflower 

that  came  right  neere  the  Land  ; 
he  comanded  a  Squire  ffree 
to  '  Looke  what  in  that  shipp  might  bee 
832         that  is  vpon  the  sand.' 

the  Squier  went  thither  ffull  tite, 
on  the  shipbord  he  did  smite, 
a  Ladye  vp  then  gan  stand ; 
836     Shee  might  not  speake  to  him  a  word, 
but  lay  &  looked  ouer  the  bord, 
&  made  signes  w^'th  her  hand.2 


who  goes 
back  to  the 
King, 


and  tells 
him  what  a 
lovely 
foreign 
woman  he 


73 

the  squier  wist  not  what  shee  ment ; 
840     againe  to  the  K.ing  he  went, 

&  kneeled  on  his  knee  : 
"  Lord,  in  the  shipp  nothing  is, 
sauing  one  in  a  womans  Likenesse 
844         that  ffast  looked  on  mee. 

but  on  3  shee  be  of  mesh  &  bone, 
a  ffairer  saw  I  neuer  none, 

saue  my  Ladye  soe  ffree  !  4 
848     shee  maketh  signes  w^th  her  hand ; 
shee  seemeth  of  some  ffarr  Land  ; 
vnknowen  shee  is  to  mee.5 


1  The  MS.  may  be  either  <E  or  M  in 
this  and  other  cases. — F. 

2  The  Thornton  text  adds  : 
Make  we  mery  for  Goddys  est; 

Thys  ys  the  thryddfytte  of  owre  geste, 


That  dar  y  take  an  hande. — F. 

3  an,  if.— F. 

4  But  hyt  were  Mary  free. — T. 
s  Beyonde  the  Grekys  see.— T. 


EGLAMORE. 


373 


74 

Sir  Marmaduke  *  highet  the  Kmgr,2 
852     he  went  to  see  that  sweet  thing, 

he  went  a  good  pace, 
to  the  Ladye  he  said  in  same, 
"  speake,  woman,  on  gods  name  !  " 
856         against  him  shee  rose. 

the  Lady  that  was  soe  meeko  &  milde, 
shee  had  bewept  sore  her  child, 

that  almost  gone  shee  was.3 
860     home  to  the  court  they  her  Ledd, 
with  good  meates  they  her  ffedd  ;  4 
w^th  good  will  shee  itt  taketh.5 


King  Mar 
maduke 


goes  to 
Christabell, 
speaks  to 
her, 


takes  her 
home  to 
Court, 
feeds  her 
well, 


75 

"  Now,  good  damsell,"  said  the  King, 
864     "  where  were  you  borne,  my  sweet  thing  ? 

yee  are  soe  bright  of  blee." 
"  Lord,  in  Artois  borne  I  was  ; 
Sir  Prinsamoure  my  ffather  was, 
868         that  Lord  is  of  that  Countrye  ; 
I  and  my  maidens  went  to  play 
by  an  arme  of  the  sea  ; 

locund  wee  were  and  lollye: 
872     they  wind  was  lithe,  a  bote  there  stood, 
I  and  my  squier  in  yode, 
but  vnchristened  was  hee. 


and  asks  her 
who  she  is. 


Christabell 
tells  him, 


and  says  she 


got  into  a 
boat  with 
her  boy, 


7G 


"  on  land  I  lefft  my  maidens  all, 
876     my  younge  squier  on  sleepe  gan  ffall, 
my  mantle  al  on  him  I  threw ; 


wrapped  him 
in  her 
mantle, 


1  Marmaduke  seems  to  have  been  from 
Marmaluke. — Pencil  note. 

2  Be  Ihesu  swere  that  gentylle  kynge. 
— T.     T.  doesn't  give   "The    kyng  of 


Egypt "  a  name. — F. 

3  Sche  was  wexyn  alle  horse. — T. 

4  Dylycyus  metys  they  hur  badd. — T. 

5  sche  them  tase. — T. 


374 


EGLAMORE. 


and  a  griffin 
flew  away 
with  him. 


"  All  right, 
you  shall  be 
my  niece 


and  Christa- 
bell  stays  in 
Egypt. 


a  griffon  there  came  thai  rought  me  care, 
my  younge  squier  away  hee  bare, 
880         southeast  with  him  hee  drew." 

"  damsell,"  he  said,  "be  of  good  cheere, 
thou  art  my  brothers  daughter  deere." 

ffor  loy  of  him  shee  louge  ; 
884     l  &  there  shee  did  still  dwell 
till  time  thai  better  beffell, 
with  ioy  and  mirth  enoughe.1 


[Part  V.] 

[How  Egl'amore  comes  back  to  Artois,  and  goes  to  the  Holy  Land  for 
fifteen  years ;  and  how  Christabell  marries  her  own  son.] 


As  soon  as 

Eglamore 

recovers, 

he  leaves 
Borne, 


to  go  home 
to  Christa 
bell. 


He  reaches 
Artois, 


and  his 
squire  tells 
him  that 
Christabell 
is  dead. 


888 


5:d  parte 

892 


896 


900 


904 


77 

Now  is  Eglamore  whole  &  sound, 
&  well  healed  of  his  wound  ; 

homeward  then  wold  hee  flare, 
of  the  Emperour  he  tooke  leaue  I-wis, 
of  the  daughter,  &  of  the  Empresse, 

&  of  all  the  meany  thai  were  there. 
Christabell  was  most  in  his  thought : 
the  dragons  head  hee  home  brought, 

on  his  speare  he  itt  bare, 
by  thai  7  weekes  were  come  to  end, 
in  the  land  of  Artoys  can  he  Lend, 
wheras  the  Erie  gan  flare. 

78 

in  the  court  was  told,  as  I  vnderstand, 
how  thai  Eglamore  was  come  to  Land 

with  the  dragons  head, 
his  Squier  rode  againe  him  so  one, 
"  Sir,  thus  hath  our  Lord  do  one  ; 2 
flaire  Christabell  is  dead ! 


1-1  Kepe  we  thys  lady  whyte  as  flowre, 
And  speke  we  of  syr  Egyllamowre  ; 


Now  comyth  to  hym  care  y-nogh. — T. 
2  Lo  !  lorde,  what  the  erle  hath  done ! — T. 


EGLAMORE. 


375 


908 


a  ffaire  sonne  shee  had  borne  ; 
1  bothe  they  are  now  fforlorne 

through  his  ffalse  read  ; l 
In  2  a  shipp  hee  put  them  2, 
&  with  the  wind  let  them  goe." 

then  swooned  3  he  where  hee  stood. 


[page  308] 


Her  father 
sent  her  and 
her  boy 


out  to  sea  in 
a  ship. 


Eglamore 
swoons, 


79 

"  alas  !  "  then  said  the  ~K.nighi  soe  ffree, 
912     "  Lord  !  where  may  my  maidens  bee 

thai  in  her  chamber  was  ?  " 
the  Squier  answered  him  ffull  soone, 
"  as  soone  as  shee  was  doone, 
916         ech  one  their  way  did  passe." 
Eglamore  went  into  the  hall 
before  the  Squiers  &  knights  all : 

"  &  thou,  Erie  of  Artoys  ! 
920     take,"  he  said,  "the  dragons  head  ! 
all  his  mine  thai  here  his  lead ! 
what  dost  thou  in  this  place  ?  "  4 


asks  after 

Christabell's 

maidens, 


goes  to  the 
Earl  of 
Aj-tois, 
gives  him 
the  Dragon's 
head, 
claims  all 
his  goods, 
and  asks  him 
what  he's 
doing  there. 


great  dole  itt  was  to  heere 
924     when  he  called  Christabell  his  fere  : 

"  what !  art  thou  drowned  in  the  sea  ? 

god  thai  dyed  on  the  rood  bitterlye,5 

on  thy  soule  haue  mercye, 
928         and  on  thai  younge  child  soe  ffree  !  " 

the  Erie  was  soe  feard  of  Eglamore 

thai  he  was  ffaine  to  take  his  tower  ;  6 


Eglamore 
laments  over 
Christabell 
and  her  boy, 


1-1  The  erle  hath  hys  lyfe  forlorne, 
He  was  bothe  whyte  and  rede. — T. 

2  Im  in  MS.— P. 

8  Swooning  was  the  correct  thing  for 
a  knight,  and  on  very  much  less  provo 
cation  than  this.  See  many  instances 
in  Seynt  Graal,  &c.  &c.  It  betokened 


the  possession  of  delicate  feelings. — F. 

4  Alle  ys  myn  that  hero  ys  levydd. 
Thou  syttyst  in  my  place. — T. 

5  on  crosse  verye. — T. 

6  The  erle  rose  up  and  toke  a  towre. 
— T. 


376 


EGLAMORE. 


and  calls  on 
all  who  want 
knighthood 
to  go  with 
him. 


thai  enermore  woe  him  bee  ! 
932     Eglamore  said,  "soe  god  me  sane, 

all  thai  the  order  of  KmgrM-hoode  will  haue, 
rise  vp  &  goe  with  mee !  " 


He  dubs 

thirty-two 

knights, 


starts  for  the 
Holy  Land, 


81 

they  were  finll  faine  to  do  his  will ; 
936     vp  they  rose,  &  came  him  till ; 

he  gaue  them  order  soone. 
the  while  that  he  in  hall  abode, 
32  l  knights  he  made, 
940         ffrom  morne  till  itt  was  noone. 
2  those  that  lining  had  none, 
he  gaue  them  lining  to  line  vpon, 

ffor  Christabell  to  pray  soone. 
944     then  anon,  I  vnderstand, 

he  tooke  the  way  to  the  holy  Land, 
where  god  on  the  rood  was  done. 


and  lives 
there  fifteen 
years, 


fighting  all 
wrong- 
livers. 


His  son 
Degrabell 
is  now 
grown  big, 


Sir  Eglamore,  as  yon  heare, 
948     he  dwelled  there  15  yeere 

the  heathen  men  amonge ; 
ffnll  manffnllye  he  there  him  bare, 
where  any  deeds  of  armes  were, 
952         against  him  that  lined  wronge. 
in  battell  or  in  tnrnament 
there  might  no  man  withstand  his  dent, 

bnt  downe  right  he  him  thronge. 
956     by  that  15  yeeres  were  gone, 

his  sonne  that  the  griffon  had  tane, 
was  waxen  both  stifle  and  stronge. 


1  V.  and  thretty.— T. 

2  And  he  that  was  the  porest  of  them 

alle, 

He  gaf  for  Crystyabellys  soule 
Londys  to  leve  upon. 


A  thousand,  as  y  undurstonde, 

He  toke  with  hym,  and  went  into 

the  Holy  Londe, 
There  God  on  cros  was  done. — T. 


EGLAMOHE. 


377 


83 

now  was  degrabell  waxen  wight ; 
960     the  King  of  Isarell  dubbd  him  a  Knight 

and  Prince  with  his  hand. 
Listen,  Lords  great  and  small, 
of  what  manner  of  armes  he  bare, 
964         &  yee  will  vnderstand  : 

he  bare  in  azure,  a  griffon  of  gold 
richlye  portrayed  in  the  mold, 

on  his  clawes  hanginge 
968     a  man  child  in  a  mantle  round 
&  wi'th  a  girdle  of  gold  bound, 
without  any  Leasinge. 


is  dubbed 
knight, 


and  these  are 
his  arms  : 


on  a  shield  of 
azure 
a  golden 
griffin 


carrying  a 
boy  with  a 
girdle  of 
gold. 


84 

the  "King  of  Isarell,  hee  waxed  old  ; 
972     to  degrabell  his  sonne  he  told, 

"  I  wold  thou  had  a  wiffe 
while  that  I  liue,  my  sonne  deere  ; 
when  I  am  dead,  thou  hast  noe  ifere, 
976         riches  is  soe  riffe."  l 

a  messenger  stoode  by  the  "King  : 
"  in  ^Egipt  is  a  sweet  thing, 
I  know  noe  such  on  liue  ; 

980     the  King,  fforsooth,  this  oath  hath  sworne, 
there  shall  none  her  haue  that  is  borne 

But  he  winne  her  by  striffe."  [page  309] 

the  King  said,  "  by  the  rood, 
984     wee  will  not  Lett  if  shee  bee  good  ; 
haue  done,  &  buske  vs  swythe." 
anon-right  they  made  them  yare, 
&  their  armour  to  the  shipp  the  bare, 
988         to  passe  the  watter  beliue. 


The  King  of 
Isarell  asks 
Degrabell  to 
marry. 


They  are 
told  of 
Christabell 
in  Egypt ; 


but  he  who 
wins  her 
must  fight 
for  her. 


They  make 
ready, 


sail  off, 


VOL.  II. 


1  When  y  am  dedd,  thou  getyst  no  pere, 
Of  ryches  thou  art  so  ryfe. — T. 

C  C 


378 


EOLAMORE. 


land  in 

Egypt, 


announce 
their  coming 
to  the  King 
of  Egypt. 


He  welcomes 
them, 


85 

by  ttliat  7  dayes  l  were  comen  to  end, 
in  segipt  Land  they  gan  Lend, 
the  vncouthe  costes  to  see.2 
992     messengers  went  before  to  tell, 

"  here  cometh  the  ~King  of  Isarell 

w^th  a  ffaire  Meany, 
&  the  Prince  with  many  a  Knight, 
996     ffor  to  haue  yo^r  daughter  bright, 

if  itt  JOUT  wil  be." 
the  King  said,  "  I  trow  I  shall 
ffind  Lodging 3  ffor  you  all ; 
1000         right  welcome  yee  are  to  mee  !  " 


leads  the 
King  of 
Isarell  into 
the  hall, 


86 

then  trumpetts  in  the  shipp  4  rose, 
&  euery  man  to  Land  goes ; 

the  Knights  were  clothed  in  pall. 
1004     the  younge  Knight  of  15  yeere, 
he  rydeth,  as  yee  may  heere, 

a  ffoote  aboue  them  all. 
the  King  of  Isarell  on  the  Land, 
1008     the  King  of  .^Egipt  takes  him  by  the  hand 

&  Ledd  him  into  the  hall : 
5  "  S*r,"  said  the  King,  "ffor  charitye, 
will  you  lett  mee  yo^r  daughter  see,5 
1012         white  as  bone  of  whall  ?  " 


and  lets  him 
see  Christa- 
bell. 

Her  son 
Degrabell 
desires  her, 


87 

the  Lady  ffrom  the  chamber  was  brought ; 
w^'th  mans  hands  shee  seemed  wrought 

&  carued  out  of  tree. 
1016     her  owne  sonne  stood  &  beheld  : 


1  Be  th[r]e  wekys.— T. 

2  Ther  forsus  for  to  knowe  swythe. 
— T. 

3  redy  yustyng. — T. 


4  Trumpus  in  the  topp-castelle. — T. 

5  Y  prey  the  thou  gyf  me  a  syght 


Of     Crystyabelle, 
bryght.— T. 


yowre  doghtyr 


EGLAMOKE. 


379 


"  well  worthy  e  him  that  might  weld  !  " 

thus  to  himselfe  thought  hee. 
the  King  of  Isarell  asked  then 
1020     if  that  she  l  might  passe  the  streame, 

his  sonnes  wiffe  ffor  to  bee. 
"  Sir,"  said  the  King,  "  if  that  you  may 
meete  me  a  stroake  to-morrowe, 
1024         thine  asking  grant  I  thee." 


and  may 
have  her  if 
he  wins  her 


Lords  in  hall  were  sett, 

&  waites  blew  to  the  meate. 

they  made  all  royall  cheere  ; 
1028     the  2  Kings  the  desse  began,2 

Sir  Degrabell  &  his  mother  then, 

the  2  were  sibb  ffull  neere. 
then  Knights  went  to  sitt  I-wis, 
1032     &  euery  man  to  his  office, 

to  serue  the  Knights  deere  ; 
&  affter  meate  washed  they,3 
&  Clarkes  grace  gan  say 
1036         in  hall,  as  you  may  heere. 

89 

then  on  the  morrow  when  day  sprong 
gentlemen  in  their  armour  4  throng, 

Degrabell  was  dight ; 

1040     the  King  of -^Sgipt  gan  him  say 

in  a  ffaire  ffeeld  that  day 

with  many  a  noble  Knight, 
what  time  the  great  Lord  might  him  see, 
1044     they  asked,  "  what  Lord  that  might  bee 
with  the  griffon  soe  bright  ?  " 


They  dine, 


and  Deg7-a- 
bell  and  his 
mother  have 
the  high 
scat. 


Next  day 


Degrabcll 
arms, 
and  the 
King  of 
Egypt  tries 
him. 


1  MS.  the.    Yf  she.— T.    (with  other 
changes). — F. 

2  had  the  chief  seats  on  the  dais. — F. 
8  See  the  operation  described  in  The 

Boke  of  Curtate  $c.  (E.  E.  Text  Soc. 


1867).— F.     T.  has: 

Aftur  mete,  than  seyde  they 
Deus  pads,  clerkys  canne  seye. 
4  to  haruds.— T. 


c  c  2 


380 


EGIAMORE. 


the  ruler  of  thai  game  gan  tell, 
"  this  is  the  Prince  of  Isarell ! 
1048         beware  !  ffor  he  is  wight." 


Degrabell 
sits  firm, 


unhorses  the 
King, 

wins  Christ- 
tabell, 


90 

the  King  of  ^Egipt  tooke  a  shafft ; 
the  Prince  saw  that,  &  sadlye  sate, 

if  he  were  neuer  soe  keene.1 
1052     against  the  King  he  made  him  bowne, 
And  on  the  ground  he  cast  him  downe, 

the  ground  that  was  soe  greene. 
they  King  said,  "  soe  god  me  saue, 
1056     thou  art  worthy  her  to  haue  !  " 
soe  said  they  all  by-deene. 


[page  310] 


and  by  God's 
might 
marries  his 
mother. 


She  sees  his 
arms, 


91 

euerye  Lord  gan  other  assay, 
<fe  squiers  on  the  other  day, 
1060         that  doughtye  were  of  deede. 

Sir  Degrabell  his  troth  hee  plight  ; 
&  Christabell,  that  Ladye  bright, 

to  church  they  her  ledd. 
1064     through  the  might  of  god  he  2  spedd, 
his  owne  mother  there  he  wedd, 

in  Romans  as  wee  reade.3 
shee  saw  his  armes  him  beforne 4 ; 
1068     shee  thought  of  him  that  was  forlorne, 
shee  wept  like  to  be  dead. 


9-2 


"  what  cheere,"  he  said,  "  my  Lady  cleere  5  ?  " 
what  weepe  you,  &  make  such  heauye  cheere  ? 
1072         methinkes  you  are  in  thought." 


1  ?  MS.  keere.— F. 

2  Thus  gracyously  he  hath. — T. 

3  Thus  harde  y  a  clerke  rede. — T. 


4  MS.  beforme.— F. 

5  The  word  may  be  cleerre.     T.  omits 
this  and  the  next  two  lines. — F. 


EGLAMORE. 


381 


"  S^r,  in  ycmr  armcs  now  I  see 

a  ffoule  thai  [rafte]  on  a  time  ffrom  mee 

a  child  that  I  deere  bought,1 
1076     that  in  a  scarlett  mantle  was  wound, 
&  in  a  girdle  of  gold  bound 

that  richely  was  wrought." 
the  King  of  Isarell  said  ffull  right, 
1080     "  in  my  fforrest  the  ffoule  gan  Light ; 
a  griffon  to  Land  him  brought." 


and  tells  him 
how  a  bird 
took  her  boy 
away, 


in  a  mantle, 
and  with  a 
gold  girdle 
on. 


The  King  of 
Isarell  says 
the  Griffin 
alighted  in 
his  land, 


93 

he  sent  a  squier  ffull  hend, 
&  bade  him  ffor  the  mantle  wende 
1084         that  hee  was  in  Layd. 

beffore  him  itt  was  brought  ffull  yare, 
the  girdle  &  the  mantle  there, 

that  richlye  were  graued. 
1088     "alas  !  "  then  said  that  Lady  ffree, 

"this  same  the  Griffon  tooke  ffrom  mee." 

in  swoning  downe  shee  braid. 
"  how  long  agoe  ?  "  the  King  gan  say. 
1092     "  S/r,  15  yeere  par  ma  ffay." 

they  assented  to  that  shee  said. 


and  the  boy 
was  brought 
to  him. 


Christabell 
says  the  boy 
was  hers, 


and  it's 
fifteen  years 
ago. 


94 

"  fforsooth,  my  sonne,  I  am  afraid 
that  to  2  sibb  maryage  wee  haue  made 
1096         in  the  beginninge  of  this  moone." 

"  damsell,  looke, — soe  god  me  sane  ! — 
which  of  my  Knights  thou  wilt  haue." 

then  degrabell  answered  soone, 
1100     "Sir,  I  hold  you[r]  Erles  good, 

&  soe  I  doe  my  mother,  by  the  roode, 
that  I  wedded  before  they  noone  ; 


She  tells  her 
son -husband 
that  their 
marriage  is 
void. 


The  King 
offers  her 
any  husband 
she'll  choose. 


No,  says 
Degrabell, 


1  That  sometyme  rafte  a  chylde  fro  me, 
A  knyght  fulle  dere  hym  boght. — T. 


2  When  to  stands  for  too,  the  o  will  be 
accented  hereafter. — F. 


382 


EOLAMORE. 


the  knights 

must  fight 

for  her.  1104 


there  shall  none  haue  her  certainlye 
but  if  he  winne  her  w^th  maisterye 
as  I  my-selfe  haue  doone." 


All  the  lords 
agree  to 
do  so. 


95 

then  euery  Lord  to  other  gan  say, 
"  ffor  her  I  will  make  delay  l 
1108         w^th  a  speare  &  sheeld  in  hand  ; 
who-soe  may  winne  thai  Lady  clere, 
ffor  to  be  his  wedded  ffere, 
must  wed  her  in  that  Land." 


[Part  VI.] 

[How  Eglamore  won  back  his  lost  love  Christabell,  and  married  her.] 


Eglamore, 


many  lord? 


and  the 
King  of 
Sattin,  come 
to  the 
tourney. 

Lists  are 
prepared, 

and  all  the 
lords  make 
ready. 


96 

1112         S^r  Eglamore  was  homward  bowne, 
he  hard  tell  of  thai  great  renowne, 

&  thither  wold  hee  wend.2 
great  Lords  thai  hard  of  thai  crye, 
6?  Parte  <!  they  rode  thither  hastilye, 

as  ffast  as  they  might  ffare. 
the  King  of  Sattin  3  was  there  alsoe, 
&  other  great  Lords  many  more 
1120      L     thai  royall  armes  4  bare. 

Then  ringes  were  made  in  the  ffeeld 
thai  Lords  might  therin  weld ; 

the  busked  &  made  them  yare. 
1124     S^r  Eglamore,  thoe  he  came  Last, 
he  was  not  worthy  out  to  be  cast ; 
thai  Knighi  was  clothed  in  care. 


1  For  hur  love  we  wylle  turnay.—  T. 

2  By  rhyme  this  triplet  belongs  to  the 
last   stanza.     It   is    put   there   in    ^~ 


the 


below.— F. 

3  "Sydon    (Cotton   M.)"   marked  in 
pencil  on   the   margin  of  the   MS.  ^-F. 


Thornton  text,  which"  adds  after  it  the       Sydone. — T. 

stanza  about  Eglamore's  arms,  given,  in  4  yoly  colourys.— T 

an  altered  state,  as  st.  97  in  our  print 


EGLAMOltE. 


383 


97 

ffor  that  Christabell  was  put  to  the  sea, 
1128     new  arnies  bearetli  hee, 
I  will  them  descrye  : 
he  beareth  in  azure  a  shipp  of  gold, 
ffull  richlye  portrayed  on  the  mold,      [page  31 1] 
1132         ffull  well  &  worthylye  ; 

the  sea  was  made  both  grim  &  bold  ; 
a  younge  child  of  a  night  old, 
&  a  woman  Lying  there  by  ; 
1 136     of  siluer  was  the  mast,  of  gold  the  ffane  l ; 
sayle,  ropes,  &  cables,  eche  one 
painted  were  worthylye. 


Eglamorc 
boars  as 
arms,  on  a 
blue  shield 
a  gold  ship, 


with  a  child, 
and  a 

woman  lying 
by  it. 


(J8 

heralds  of  arnies  soone  on  hye, 
1140     euery  Lords  armes  gan  descrye 

in  that  ifeeld  soe  broade.2 
then  Chr[i]stabell  as  white  as  mower, 
she  sate  vpon  a  hye  tower  ;  3 
1144         ffor  her  that  crye  was  made. 

the  younge  knight  of  15  yeere  old 
that  was  both  doughtye  &  bold, 

into  the  ffeeld  he  rode. 

11 48     who-soe  that  Sir  Degrabell  did  smite, 
with  his  dint  they  ffell  tyte, 
neuer  a  one  his  stroake  abode. 


Christabell 
sits  in  a  high 
tower : 


her  son 
Degrabell 


rides  into 
the  field, 


and  fells  all 
who  attacks 
him. 


99 


Sir  Eglamore  houed  4  &  beheild 

1152     how  the  folke  in  the  feild  dowiic  fold 

they  Kw{7/its  all  by-dcene. 


Eglamoro 
looks  on. 


\  '  Fane,  a  Weather-cock,  which  turns 
about  as  the  Wind  changes,  and  shews 
from  what  Quarter  it  blows.  Phillips. 
— F. 

2  The  three  lines  above  are  not  in  T. 


— F. 

3  Was   broght    to   a    corner    of   the 
walle.— T. 

4  halted,  stood  still.     The  first  three 
lines  of  this  stanza  are  not  in  T. — F. 


384 


EGLAMORE. 


Degrabell 
asks  him 
why  he 
stands  still. 


"  Because  I 
am  come  out 
of  heathen 
lands. 


when  Degrabell  Mm  see,  he  rode  him  till,1 
&  said,  "  Sir,  why  are  you  soe  still 
1156         amonge  all  these  'Knights  keene  ?  " 
Eglamore  said  to  him  T»wis,2 
"  I  am  come  out  of  heathenesse, 

itt  were  sinne  mee  to  meete.3  " 
1160     Degrabell  said,  "  soe  mote  I  thee  ! 

more  worshipp  itt  had  beene  to  thee, 
vnarmed  to  haue  beene." 

100 

the  ffather  on  the  sonne  Lough ; 
11 64     "  haue  yee  not  lusting  enoughe  4 

where  euer  that  you  bee  ? 
that  day  ffall  haue  I  seene, 
with  as  bigg  men  haue  I  beene, 
1168         &  yett  well  gone  my  way. 

&  yett,  fibrsooth,"  said  he  then, 
"  I  will  doe  as  well  as  I  can, 

with  you  once  to  play." 
They  charge.     1172     heard  together  they  km'^Ats  donge 

with  great  speares  sharpe  and  longe  ; 

them  beheld  eche  one. " 
Sir  Eglamore,  as  itt  was  his  happ,6 
1176     giue  his  sonne  such  a  rappe  6 
that  to  the  ground  went  hee. 

101 

"  alas  !  "  then  said  that  Ladye  ffree, 
"  my  sonne  is  dead,  by  gods  pittye  ! 
1180         the  keene  knight  hath  him  slaine  !  " 
then  men  said  wholy  on  mold, 
"  the  Knight  that  beares  the  shipp  of  gold 
hath  wonne  her  on  the  plaine." 


Haven't  you 
jousting 
enough  ? 


I'll  have  a 
turn  with 
you." 


Eglamore 
gives  his  son 
a  rap, 
grounds 
him, 


and  wins 
Christabell. 


1  He  sende  a  knyght  anon  fulle  stylle. 
— T. 

2  He  seyde,  Syr  recreawntes. — T. 
8  tene,  T.,  which  is  better.— F. 


4  T.  alters  this  and  the  next  nineteen 
lines.— P. 

5  turnyd  hys  swerde  flatt. — T. 

6  patte.— T. 


EGLAMORE. 


385 


102 

1 1 84     Herallds  of  armes  cryed  then, 

"  is  there  now  any  manner  of  man 

will  make  his  body  good, 
thai  will  iust  any  more  ? 
1188     say  now  while  wee  be  here  !  " 

then  a  while  they  still  stoode. 
Degrabell  said,  "  by  god  almight ! 
methinkes  that  I  durst  with  him  flight, 
1192         if  he  were  neuer  soe  wood." 
Lords  together  made  a  vow, 
"  fforssooth/'  they  said,  "  best  worthy  art  tliou 
to  haue  thy  ffreelye  ffood  !  " 

103 

1196     ffor  to  vnarme  him  Lords  gan  goe  ; 
1  clothes  of  gold  on  him  they  doc, 

&  then  to  meatc  the  wende. 
SIT  Eglamore  then  wan  the  grec, 
1200     beside  the  Lady  sett  was  hee  : 

shee  frened  him  as  her  ffreind,1 
"  ffor  what  cause  that  he  bore 
a  shipp  of  gold  with  mast  &  ore." 
1204         he  said  with  words  hende, 

"  damsell,  into  the  sea  was  done 
my  Lady  &  my  younge  2  sonne  ; 
&  there  they  made  an  ende." 


Heralds 

ask  if  any 
one  else  will 
fight 
Eglamoro, 


None 
answer 


so  Christa- 
bcll  is 
adjudged  to 
him. 


Eglamoro 
is  clad  in 
cloth  of  gold, 


and  sits  in 
the  chief 
place  with 
Christabell. 
She  asks 
him  why 
his  arms 
are  a  ship. 


"  Because 
my  Lady  and 
son  were 
put  to  sea, 
and  died." 


104 


1208     3  knowledge  to  him  tooke  shee  thoe  ; 
"  now,  good  Sir,  tell  me  soe, 

where  they  were  brought  to  ground  ?  "    [pago  312] 


i— 


1  In  cortyls,  sorcatys,   and  schorte 

clothys, 

That  doghty  weryn  of  dede. 
Two  kyngys  the  deyse  began, 


Syr  Egyllamowre  and  Crystyabelle 

than  ; 

Ihesu  us  alle  spede ! — T. 
2  lemman  and  my  yongest. — T. 
8  T.  omits  the  next  six  lines. — F 


386 


EGLAMOHE. 


"  I  was 
away. 
Her  father 
sent  her  to 
sea  to 
drown." 


What  is 
your  name  ? 


"  Sir  Egla- 
more  of 
Artois." 


"  while  I  was  in  ffarr  country e 
1212     her  ffather  put  her  into  the  sea, 

with  the  waues  to  confounde." 
with  honest  mirth  &  game 
of  him  shee  asked  the  name  ; 
1216         &  he  answered  that  stond, 

"  men  call  mee,  where  I  was  bore, 
of  Artoys  Sir  Eglamore, 

thai  with  a  worme  was  wound." 


\ 


Christabell 

swoons, 

then 

welcomes 

Eglamore, 

and  tells 
what  she  has 
suffered. 


(People 
meet  when 
they  least 
expect  it.) 


The  King  of 
Isarell  tells 
how  he 
found 
Dcgrabell, 


105 

1220     in  swooning  ffell  that  Lady  ffree; 
"  welcome,  Sir  Eglamore,  to  mee  ! 

thy  Loue  I  haue  bought  full  deere  !  " 
then  shee  sate,  &  told  full  soone 
1224     how  into  the  sea  shee  was  doone  ; 
then  wept  both  lesse  and  more. 
1  minstrills  had  their  giffts  ffree, 
wherby  the  might  the  better  bee  ; 
1228         to  spend  they  wold  not  spare.2 
ffull  true  itt  is,  by  god  in  heauen, 
that  men  meete  att  vnsett  steven,3 
&  soe  itt  beffell  there. 

106 
1232     the  King  of  Isarell  gan  tell 

how  that  hee  found  Sir  Degrabell ; 
Lordings,  Listen  tven  :  4 


1  This  gentle  reminder  to  the  hearers 
of  their  duty  to  the  singers  of  the  Ko- 
mance  is  repeated  with  some  variation 
at  the  end. — F. 

8  For  the  former  part  of  this  st.  105, 
T.  has,  st.  cxi.  p.  174: 
There  was  many  a  robe  of  palle  ; 
The  chylde  servyd  in  the  halle 

At  the  fyrste  mete  that  day. 
Prevely  scho  to  hym  spake, 
"  3ondur  ys  thy  fadur  that  the  gate  !  " 

A  grete  yoye  hyt  was  to  see  ay 


When  he  knelyd  downe  on  hys  kne, 
Ther  was  mony  an  herte  sore, 
Be  God  that  dyed  on  a  tree ! — F. 

3  unfixed   time,  time  not  appointed. 
Compare  Chaucer,  in  The  Knightes  Tale, 
1.  666,  v.  ii.  p.  47,  ed.  Morris  : 

It  is  ful  fair  a  man  to  bere  him  evene, 
For  al  day  meteth  men  atte  unset  stevene. 
Ful  ]itel  woot  Arcite  of  his  felawe, 
That  was  so  neih  to  herken  of  his  sawe. 
— F. 

4  Knyghtys    lystenyd    ther-to    than. 
— T. 


EGLAMOHE. 


387 


1236 


1240 


1244 


1248 


1252 


Sir  Eglamore  kneeled  on  his  knee, 

"  my  Lord  !  "  he  said,  "  god  yeeld  itt  thee  ! 

yee  haue  made  him  a  May.1  " 
the  King  of  Isarell  said,  "  I  will  the[e]  giue 
halfe  my  kindome  while  I  doe  Hue, 

my  deere  sonne  as  white  as  swan." 
"  thou  shalt  haue  my  daughter  Arnada," 
the  King  of  Sattin  sayd  alsoe, 

"  I  remember,  since  thou  her  wan." 

107 

2  Eglamore  prayed  the  Kings  3 
att  his  wedding  ffor  to  bee, 

if  thai  they  wold  vouch [s]afo. 
all  granted  him  thai  there  were, 
litle,  lesse,  &  more; 

Lord  lesus  christ  them  haue  ! 
Kings,  Erles,  I  vnde[r] stand, 
•with  many  dukes  of  other  Lands, 

with  loy  &  mirth  enoughe. 
the  trumpetts  in  the  shipp  blowes, 
thai  euery  man  to  shipp  goes, 

the  winde  them  ouer  blew. 


.and  gives 
him  half  his 
kingdom. 


The  King  of 
Sattin 
also  gives 
his  daughter 
Arnada  to 
Degrabcll. 


Eglamore 
invites  every 
one  to  his 
wedding. 


All  accept, 


sail  off, 


108 

125G     through  gods  might,  all  his  meany 
in  good  liking  passed  the  sea  ; 

in  Artois  they  did  arriue. 
the  Erie  then  in  the  tower  stoode, 
1 260     he  saw  men  passe  the  mood, 

&  fiast 3  to  his  horsse  gan  driue. 


and  reach 

Artois 

safely. 

The  old  Earl 


1  man. — T.      May   generally    means 
maiden ;  but  mawe,  ma^e,  is  a  kinsman  ; 
A.-Sax.  m<eg,  a  son,  kinsman. — F. 

2  T.  shortens  and  alters  this   stanza 


and  part  of  the  next. — F. 

3  So  in  printed  copy,  but  very  different 
in  the  Cotton  MS.— Pencil  note  in  MS. 


383 


EGLAMORE. 


falls  out  of 
his  tower 
and  breaks 
his  neck, 


by  a  merciful 
providence. 


when  lie  heard  of  Eglamore, 
he  ffell  out  of  his  tower 
1264         &  broke  his  necke'  beliue. 

the  messenger  went  againe  to  tell 
of  that  case,  how  itt  beffell : 
with  god  may  no  man  strine. 


The 

Emperor  is 
sent  for, 


every  one  in 
the  land  is 
bidden  to  the 
Feast, 


and  Egla 
more  weds 
Christabell, 
Degrabell 
weds 
Arnadat 


109 

1 268     l  thus  in  Artois  the  Lords  the  Lent ; 
after  the  Emperour  2  soone  the  sent, 

to  come  to  that  Marryage  ; 
in  all  they  land  they  mad  crye, 
1272     who-soe  wold  come  to  that  ffeast  worthye, 

right  welcome  shold  they  bee ; 
Sir  Eglamore  to  the  church  is  gone, 
degrabell  &  Arnada  they  haue  tane, 
1276         and  his  Lady  bright  of  blee. 

the  ~King  of  Isarell  said,  "  He  giue 
halfe  my  land  while  I  Hue  ; 
brooke  well  [all3]  after  my  day." 


The  Feast 
lasts  forty 
days, 


and  then  all 
the  guests  go 
home. 


110 

1280     w^th  mickle  mirth  the  feast  was  made, 
40  dayes  itt  abode 

amonge  all  the  Lorc?s  hend ; 
and  then  forsooth,  as  I  you  say, 
1284     euery  man  tooke  his  way 

wherin  him  liked  to  dwell. 


,page  313] 


1  T.  alters  these  concluding  stanzas  a 
good  deal. — F. 

2  An  Emperor  was  thought  necessary 
to  give  the  proper  eclat  to  a  wedding  : 

Ther  com  tyl  hir  weddyng 
An  emperoure  and  a  kyng, 
Erchebyschopbz  with  ryng 
Mo  then  fyftene  ! 


The  mayster  of  hospitalle 
Come  over  with  a  cardinalle, 
The  gret  kyng  of  Portyngalle, 

With  kny3thus  ful  kene. 
Sir  Degrevant,   p.    252-3,   Thornton 
Romances. — F. 

3  all.  p.c. — Pencil  note.  T.  has  not 
the  line.  Brooke  is  A.-S.  brucan,  to 
enjoy. — F. 


us  all ! 


EGLAMORE.  389 

minstrells  had  good  great  plentye,  Minstrels 

,7    ,  , -,       ,  ,1/1  £et  i)lcnfcy  o* 

that  euer  they  better  may  the  bee,  money. 

1288         and  bolder  ffor  to  spend. 

in  Romans  this  Chronickle  is. 

dere  lesus  !  bring  vs  to  thy  blisse  Christ  blcss 

that  lasteth  without  end  ! 

ffins. 


1  T.  winds  up  with  "  Amen.     Here  endyth  syr  Egyllamowre  of  Artas,  and  Legyn- 
neth  syr  Tryamowre."  —  F. 


["  When  Scortching  Phoebus,"  printed  in  Lo.  and  Hum.  Songs, 
pp.  70-3,  follows  hero  in  the  MS.] 


390 


Ofrnperour  &  tt)t 

THE  following  piece  is  here  printed  for  the  first  time.  Percy 
describes  it  as  an  old  poem  (f  in  a  wretched  corrupt  state,  un 
worthy  the  press."  Selecting  from  it  "  such  particulars  as  could 
be  adopted,"  he  composed  himself  a  poem  on  the  subject  of  it, — 
a  poem  in  Two  Parts,  altogether  some  400  lines  long,  beginning 

in  this  wise : 

When  Flora  'gins  to  decke  the  fields 

With  colours  fresh  and  fine, 
The  holy  clerkes  their  mattins  sing 

To  good  Saint  Valentine !  &c. 

Is  this  style  so  very  much  worthier  of  the  press  than  that  of 

Within  the  Grecian  land  some  time  did  dwell 
An  Emperor,  whose  name  did  far  excell,  &c.  ? 

We  doubt  whether  either  piece  is  particularly  worthy  of  the 
press.  But  that  which  suited  best  the  taste  of  the  eighteenth 
century  is  certainly  the  less  worthy  of  the  two.  That  century 
could  see  the  mote  in  the  eye  of  a  preceding  age,  but  not  the 
beam  in  its  own  eye. 

This  piece  is  evidently  of  very  late  origin,  written  at  a  time 
when  the  period  of  professional  ballad-makers  had  well  Jet  in. 

The  story  was,  in  prose,  extremely  popular.  This  prose  ver 
sion  was  a  translation  from  the  French.  Of  the  old  French 
romance  an  analysis  is  given  in  the  Bibliotheque  des  Romans, 
which  ranks  it  among  Romans  Historiques : ! — 

1  The  Old  song  of  Valentine  &  Ursin       Chevaliers  Valentin    et   Orson,  fils   de 
or  Orsin.  1'Empereur  de  G-rece  et  nevetix  du  tres- 

This  song  or  Poem  seems  to  be  quite  chretien  Eoi  de  France  P£pin,  contenant 

modern  by  the  Language  &  versification.  74  chapitres,  lesquels  parlent  de  plusieurs 

N.B.  This  Poem  only  suggested  the  et  diverses  matieres  tres-plaisantes  et 

subject  of  that  I  printed  on  Valentine  r£creatives.  Lyon,  1495,  in-folio,  et 

and  Ursin. — P.  1590  in-octavo,  et  depuis  a  Troyes,  chez 

2  Histoire  des  deux  nobles  et  vaillans  Oudot,  in-quarto. 


THE    EMPEROUK    AND    THE    CHILDE.  391 

Nous  avons  annonce  dans  notrc  avant-dcrnier  volume  que  nous 
avions  encore  a  parler  d'un  roman  singulier  et  interessant  concernant 
Pepin,  Boi  de  France,  premier  de  la  seconde  race  et  pere  de  Charle 
magne  ;  c'est  celui  dont  on  vient  de  lire  le  titre.  II  est  bien  constam- 
menfc  historique,  quoique  1'histoire  y  soit  defiguree  ;  que  Pepin  y 
voyage  dans  des  pays  dont  il  ii'a  jamais  approclie,  tels  que  Constan 
tinople  et  Jerusalem,  qu'on  1'y  fasse  prisonnier  d'un  Boi  des  Indes, 
ainsi  que  les  douze  pairs  de  France ;  qu'on  ajoute  a  cette  pretenduo 
captivite  les  circonstances  les  plus  ridicules  ;  qu'on  suppose  a  Pepin 
deux  fils,  une  soeur  et  deux  neveux,  qui  n'ont  jamais  existe ;  enfin, 
quoique  les -commencements  de  1'histoire  de  Charlemagne  que  Ton 
trouve  dans  ce  roman-ci  soient  aussi  eloignes  de  la  verite  que  ce  qui 
est  dit  du  regne  de  Pepin,  tout  cela,  cepeiidant,  se  fait  lire  avec  plaisir  ; 
et  nous  croyons  que  iios  lecteurs  ne  trouveront  point  trop  long 
1'extrait  tres-detaille  -quo  nous  allons  en  faire,  chapitre  par  chapitre, 
sans  rien  changer  a  sa  marche,  et  respectant  presque  egalement  le 
style,  qui  n'est  pas  si  gaulois  que  celui  des  autres  romans  de  clic- 
valerie  que  nous  avons  extraits  jusqu'a  present,  car  celui-ci  peut  etre 
range  dans  la  meme  classe  :  on  peut  aussi,  si  1'on  veut,  le  compter 
parmi  les  romans  d'amour,  car  malgre  les  ridiculites  dont  il  est  rempli, 
la  marche  en  est  tres-rcguliere.  L'histoire  des  deux  freres  qui  en 
font  les  heros  y  est  conduite  depuis  1'instant  de  leur  naissanco 
jusqu'a  leur  mort ;  tous  deux  sont  amoureux  et  epousent  enfin  leurs 
maitresses.  Bien  ne  nous  prouve  que  ce  roman  soit  fort  ancien. 
Nous  n'en  connaissons  aucuns  manuscrits  ;  et  ne  pouvant  parler  d'apres 
nous-memes  de  la  premiere  edition  (in- folio),  qui  est  tres-rare,  nous  ne 
trouvons  rien  dans  la  seconde  (qui  est  celle  de  1590)  qui  porte  une 
certaine  marque  d'anciennete,  non-seulement  dans  le  style,  mais  memo 
dans  les  details,  et  nous  ne  croyons  pas  qu'on  puisse  en  faire  remonter 
1'epoque  plus  haut  que  le  regne  de  Charles  VIII,  temps  ou  beaucoup 
de  romans  de  ce  genre  virent  le  jour,  les  uns  etant  tires  de  quelques 
manuscrits  plus  anciens,  les  autres  etant  tout  a  fait  nouveaux.  Ne 
poussons  pas  plus  loin  nos  recherches  et  nos  observations  preliminaires 
sur  Valentin  et  Orson,  et  commen9ons  notre '  extrait  en  suppliant  nos 
lecteurs  d'avoir  de  1'indulgence  pour  la  simplicite  et  la  bonhomie 
avec  lesquelles  cet  ouvrage  a  ete  compose.  On  y  trouvera  bien  des 
traits  curieux  et  des  situations  tres-interessantes,  meles  avec  mille 
circonstances  ridicules.  La  singularite  de  tout  cela  pourra,  du  moins, 
amuser. 

L'auteur  raconte,  d'abord,  en  peu  de  mots,  la  touchante  histoire 
de  Berthe  au  grand  pied,  qui  a  fait  la  matiere  d'un  roman  entier, 


392  THE    EMPEROUR   AND   THE    CHILDE. 

dont  nous  avons  donne  1'extrait  dans  notre  premier  volume  du  mois 
dernier.  II  suppose  seulement  que  les  deux  fils  de  Pepin  et  de  la  fausse 
Berthe  vecurent,  et  se  trouverent  en  etat,  a  la  mort  de  Pepin,  de  com- 
battre  le  roi  Charlemagne  et  de  lui  disputer  la  couronne  ;  que  celui-ci, 
apres  avoir  ete  chasse  de  son  royaume  par  eux,  y  rentra,  pourtant,  et 
les  vainquit  a  son  tour.  II  suppose  encore  que  Pepin  avait  une  soeur 
nominee  Beligrane  ou  Belissante,  qu'elle  epousa  un  Empereur  de 
Constantinople  nomine  Alexandre,  et  c'est  ici  que  commence  le 
roman. 

As  the  matter  of  a  chap-book,  the  story  was  very  common  both 
in  France  and  in  England.  How  it  was  generally  treated  will 
be  shown  by  the  following  headings  of  chapters  from  the  Histoire 
de  Valentin  et  Orson,  ires-nobles  et  tres-vaillants  chevaliers,  fils 
de  1'Empereur  de  Grece  et  neveux  du  tres-vaillant  et  tres- 
chretien  Pepin,  Roi  de  France. 

Cap.  I. — Comme  le  tres-noble  roi  Pepin  epousa  Berthe,  dame  de 
tres-grande  renommee  et  prudence. 

Cap.  II. — Comme  1'Empereur  fut  trahi  par  1'Archeveque  de  Con 
stantinople. 

Cap.  III. — Comme  1'Archeveque  etant  econduit  de  Bellisant  pour 
son  honneur  sauver,  machina  grande  trahison. 

Cap.  IV. — Comme  1'Archeveque  se  mit  en  habit  de  chevalier,  et 
monta  a  cheval  pour  poursuivre  la  dame  Bellisant,  laquelle  etait 
bannie. 

Cap.  Y. — Comme  Bellisant  enfanta  deux  enfants  clans  la  foret 
d'Orleans,  dont  1'un  fut  appele  Valentin  et  1'autre  Orson,  et  comme 
elle  les  perdit. 

Cap.  VI. — De  1'ourse  qui  emporta  de  Bellisant  parmi  le  bois. 

Cap.  VII. — Comme  par  le  conseil  de  1'Archeveque  furent  elevees 
de  nouvelles  coutumes  en  la  cite  de  Constantinople,  et  comme  la 
trahison  fut  connue. 

Cap.  VIII. — Comme  1'Empereur  Alexandre,  par  le  conseil  des 
sages,  envoya  querir  le  roi  Pepin  pour  savoir  la  verite  de  la  querelle 
du  marchand  et  de  1'Archeveque. 

Cap.  IX. — Comment  le  marchand  et  1'Archeveque  se  combattirent 
au  champ  de  bataille. 

Cap.  X. — Comme  le  roi  Pepin  prit  conge  de  1'Empereur  et  partit 
de  Constantinople  pour  retourner  en  France,  et  comme  apres  il  alia 
a  Rome  centre  les  Sarrasins  qui  la  cite  avaient  prise. 


THE    EMPEROUR   AND    THE    CHILDE.  393 

Cap.  XI. — Comme  Hauffroi  et  Henri  eurent  envie  sur  Valentin 
pour  le  grand  amour  que  lui  portait  le  roi. 

Cap.  XII. — Comme  Valentin  conquit  Orson  son  frere  dans  la  foret 
d'Orleans. 

Cap.  XIII. — Comme  apres  que  Valentin  eut  conquis  Orson,  il 
partit  de  la  foret  pour  retourner  a  Orleans  vers  le  roi  Pepin. 

Cap.  XTV. — Comme  Hauffroi  et  Henri,  par  envie,  resolurent  de  tuer 
Valentin  en  la  chambre  de  la  belle  Esglantine. 

Cap.  XV. — Comme  le  due  de  Savary  envoya  vers  le  roi  Pepin  pour 
avoir  aide  centre  le  vert  chevalier  qui  voulait  avoir  sa  fille  Fezonne 
pour  epouse. 

Cap.  XVI. — Comme  plusieurs  chevaliers  vinrent  en  Aquitaine 
pour  avoir  la  belle  Fezonne. 

Cap.  XVII. — Comme  Hauffroi  et  Henri  firent  guetter  Valentin  et 
Orson  sur  le  chemin  pour  le  faire  mourir. 

Cap.  XVIII. — Comme  le  roi  Pepin.  commanda  que  devant  son 
palais  fut  appareille  le  champ  pour  voir  Orson  et  Grigard  combattre 
ensemble. 

****** 

Cap.  LVI. — Comme  Valentin  fit  la  penitence  qui  lui  avait  ete 
impose e  pour  expier  le  meurtre  de  son  pore. 

Cap.  LVII. — Comme  le  roi  Hugon  fit  demander  Escharmonde  pour 
femme,  et  comme  il  trahit  Orson  et  le  vert  chevalier. 

Cap.  LVIII. — Comme  Bellisant  et  Escharmonde  surent  la  trahison 
et  fausse  entreprise  du  roi  Hugon. 

Cap.  LIX. — Comme  Orson  et  le  vert  chevalier  furent  delivres  des 
prisons  du  roi  de  Syrie,  et  comme  le  roi  Hugon,  pour  eviter  la  guerre, 
se  soumit  a  eux. 

Cap.  LX. — Comme,  au  bout  de  sept  ans,  Valentin,  finit  ses  jours 
dans  son  palais  de  Constantinople,  et  ecrivit  une  lettre  par  laquelle  il 
fut  connu. 


the  Grecyan  land  some  time  did  dwell     A  Greek 

Emperor 

an  Emperour,  whose  name  did  ffar  excell ;  once  married 

a  French 

he  tooke  to  wiffe  the  Lady  Bfelllefaunt,  Princess, 

J        L    J  Lady  Belle- 

4     the  only  sister  to  the  Kinge  of  ffrance,  fauut- 

with  whome  he  liued  in  pleasure  &  delight  They  lived 

happily  till 

vntill  thai  ffortune  came  to  worke  them  spight. 

YOL.  II.  D  D 


394 


THE    EMPEROUR   AND   THE   CHILDE. 


a  lustful 
Bishop 


tried  to 
seduce  the 
Empress, 


and  on  her 
refusal 


accused  her 
falsely  to  the 
Emperor. 


The 

Emperor 
wouldn't 
hear  her, 
but  banished 
her  at  once ; 


and  she 
started  with 
one  squire 

for  France. 


On  her  way 


ffor  within  the  court  a  bishoppe 1  there  did  rest, 
8     the  which  the  Emperour  held  in  great  request ; 
his  emiious  hart  itt  was  soe  sore  enfflamed 
vpon  the  Empresse,  thai  gallant  dame, 
2  that  he  wold  perswade  her  many  3  a  wile 

12      her  husbands  marriage  bed  for  to  defile, 
but  shee  denyed  that  vnchast  request, 
as  to  her  honor  did  beseeme  her  best ; 
which  when  the  Bishopp  saw,  away  he  went 

16      vntou  the  Emperour  w*'th  a  fell  intent, 
&  then  most  ffalselye  her  he  did  accuse, 
how  that  shee  wold  his  marryage  bed  abuse  ; 
&  thervpon  he  swore  the  same  to  proue, 

20      which  made  her  husbands  loue  in  wrath  to  proue. 
then  the  Emperour  went  to  her  with  speed, 
ffor  to  accuse  her  of  this  shamefull  deede. 
and  when  shee  saw  how  shee  was  betrayd, 

24      her  inocency  shee  began  to  pleade  ; 

but  then  her  husband  wold  not  heare  her  speake, 
which  made  her  hart  w^'th  sorrow  like  to  breake  ; 
but  straight  the  Eraperour  he  gaue  command 

28      that  shee  shold  be  banished  4  out  of  his  land, 
but  when  that  shee  ffrdm  them  did  goe,  * 
before  them  all  shee  did  reccount  5  her  woe, 
&  said  that  shee  was  banished  wrongffullye  ; 

32      &  soe  shee  went  w^th  sorrow  like  to  dye. 

now  is  shee  gone,  but  w^'th  one  Squier  alone, 
vnto  her  brother  in  ffrance  to  make  her  Mone. 
And  being  come  within  the  realme  of  ffrance,  [page  sis 

36      0  there  beffell  a  very  heauy  chance  ! 

ffor  6  as  shee  trauelled  through  a  wild  fforrest, 
the  labor  of  Childhood  did  her  sore  oppresse, 


1  An  Archpriest,  says  the  Story  Book. 
-P. 

2  That  her  he  -would,  persuade  with. 


4  banish'd  be. — P. 

5  recount. — P. 

6  all  follows  in  the  MS.,  marked  out. 


—P. 


— F. 


3  with  many,  qu. — P. 


THE    EMPEROUR    AND    THE    CI1ILDE. 


395 


&  more  &  more  her  paines  increased  still 

40      that  shoe  was  fforced  to  rest  against  her  will, 
now  att  the  lenght  her  trauell  came  to  end, 
ffor  the  ILord  2  children  did  her  send, 
the  which  were  ffalre  &  proper  boyes  indeed, 

44      which  made  her  hart  with  loy  for  to  exceede. 
but  now  behold  how  ffortune  gan  to  Lower,1 
&  turned  her  loy  to  greefe  within  an  hower ! 
ffor  why,  shee  saw  an  vgly  beare  as  then, 

48      the  which,  was  come  fforthe  of  some  lothesomc  -den; 
&  when  the  beare  did  see  her  in  that  place, 
he  made  towards  her  with,  an  Egar  pace, 
&  ffrom  her  tooke  one  of  her  children  small, 

52      a  sight  to  greeue  the  mothers  hart  w/th-all. 
but  when  shee  saw  her  child  soe  borne  away, 
slice  Laid  the  other  downe,  &  did  not  stay, 
&  ffollowed  itt  as  ffast  as  euer  shee  might ; 

56      but  all  in  vaine  !  of  itt  shee  lost  the  sight, 
but  soe  itt  chanced,  att  that  verry  tyde 
the  "King  of  ffrance  did  there  a  hunting  ryde  ; 
&  in  the  fforrest  as  he  rode  vp  and  downe, 

CO      the  other  child  he  ffound  vpon  the  ground. 
&  when  he  saw  the  child  to  be  soe  fairc, 
to  take  itt  vp  he  bade  his  men  take  care, 
&  keepe  itt  well  as  tho  itt  were  his  owne, 

64      vntill  the  ffather  of  the  child  where  2  knowne. 
the  Emprcsse  returned  there  backe  againe, 
when  as  shee  saw  the  beare  within  his  den  ; 
but  when  shee  saw  her  other  sonne  was  lost, 

68      her  hart  with  sorrow  then  was  like  to  burst, 
then  downe  shee  sate  her  with  a  heauy  hart, 
&  wishes  3  death  to  ease  her  of  her  smart ; 
shee  wrong  her  hands  with  many  a  sigh  full  deepe 
72     that  wold  haue  made  a  fflyntye  hart  to  weepe. 


she  was 
taken  in 
labour, 


and  bore 
two  boys. 


A  bear 


carried  off 
one  of  them. 


She  laid  the 
other  down, 
and  ran 
after  the 
lost  one, 
but  couldn't 
find  it. 

The  King  of 
France  finds 
the  boy  laid 
down, 


and  has  him 
carried  off. 


The  Empress 
comes  back 
for  him, 

but  finds  him 
gone. 

Iler  heart 

nearly 

breaks. 


lour.— P. 


2  were.— P. 
,    D  D  2 


3  wish'd  for. — P. 


396 


THE   EMPEROUR   AND    THE    CHILDE. 


She  leaves 
the  place, 


and  goes  to 
a  castle 
for  help. 


But  a  giant 
lives  there 


and  puts  her 
in  prison, 


but  doesn't 
hurt  her. 


The  boy  the 
bear  took 
grows  up 


a  huge  wild 
man, 


who  kills  all 
that  pass  by 
his  den. 


The  other 
boy  is 
christened 
Valentine, 


then  shee  departed  from  thai  woefull  place, 

&  fforth  of  ffrance  shee  went  away  apace ; 

ffor  why,  as  yett  shee  wold  not  there  be  knowen 

76     vntill  some  newes  of  her  young  sonnes  were  shone.1 
but  shee  beheld  a  Castle  ffaire  &  stronge, — 2 
shee  had  not  trauelled  ffrom  thai  place  not  Long, — 
wheratt  shee  knocket,  some  succour  for  to  find. 

80     but  itt  ffell  out  contrary  to  her  mind  ; 

ffor  why,  w^th-in  thai  castle  dwelt  as  then 

a  monstrous  gyaiit,  ffeared  of  all  men, 

who  tooke  this  Ladye  into  his  prison  strong, 

84     &  there  he  kept  her  ffast  in  prison  long, 
but  when  he  saw  her  lookes  to  be  soe  sadd, 
&  hauing  knowen  what  sorrowes  she  had  had, 
he  kept  her  close,  but  he  hurt  her  not ; 

88     &  soe  shee  liued  in  prison  long,  god  wotte. 
the  child  the  which  the  beare  had  borne  away, 
amongst  her  younge  ones  was  brought  vp  alway, 
&  soe  brought  vp  vntill  att  length  as  then 

92     he  there  became  a  monstrous  huge  wild  man, 
&  [djaylye  ranged  about  the  fforrest  wilde, 
&  did  destroy  man,  woman,  beast  and  child, 
&  all  things  else  which  by  his  den  did  passe, 

96     which  to  the  country  great  annoyance  was. 
the  other  child  which  they  ~K.ing  3  had  Sound,4 
he  christened  was,  &  valentine  was  his  name  ; 
&  when  he  grew  to  be  of  ripe  yeeres, 
100     he  was  beloued  both  of  JLing  and  peeres  ; 
in  ffeates  off  armes  he  did  himselfe  advance, 
thai  none  like  him  there  cold  be  ffond  in  ffrance  ; 
&  ffor  thai  same,  the  King  did  dub  him  Knight ; 
104     he  allwaies  was  soe  vallyant  in  his  fight, 
then  to  the  court  did  many  pore  men  come 
to  show  what  hurt  the  wild  man  there  had  done  ; 


is  knighted, 
and  is 
valiant. 

Poor  men 
complain  of 
the  Wild 
Man. 


1  shown.— P. 

2  The  o  and  n  are  squeezed  together 
in  the  MS.--F. 


3  the  which  the  King, — P. 
*  tane;  qu. — P. 


THE    EMPEROUR   .AND    THE    CHILDE. 


397 


but  when  theKm^  did  lieare  the  moane  they  made,1 
108     he  sent  fforth  men  the  monster  to  inuade  ; 

but  all  in  vaine  ;  fFor  why,  hee  crusht  them  soe 

that  none  of  them  w^'th-in  his  reach  durst  goe. 

Then  valentine  vnto  the  ~K.ing  did  sue  [page  sic] 

112     thai  he  might  goe  the  Monster  to  subdue. 

then  fforthe  he  went  the  Monster  fFor  to  see, 

whom  he  saw  come  bearing  a  younge  oke  tree ; 

&  when  the  wild  man  of  him  had  a  sight, 
116     he  went  vnto  him  &  cast  him  downe  right. 

&  when  he  saw  his  strenght  cold  not  prevaile, 

he  praid  to  god  his  purpose  might  not  ffayle  ; 

then  a  poinard  presently  he  drew  out, 
120     &  peirct  his  side,  wherwith  the  blood  gusht  out. 

but  when  the  wild  man  did  behold  his  blood, 

he  2  quicklye  brought  him  ffrom  his  ffuryous  mood  ; 

then  ffrom  the  fforrest  both  together  went 
124     towards  the  Emperour,3  &  with  ffull  intent 

of  [him]  desired  leaue  by  sea  to  sayle 

into  an  He  that  Lyeth  in  Portingall, 

wheras  the  hard4  with-in  a  Castle  was 
128     a  Ladye  ffaire  that  kept  a  head  of  brasse, 

the  which  cold  tell  of  any  questyon  asket. 

&  thither  came  braue  valentine  att  Last ; 

&  when  that  they  to  5  the  castle  came, 
132     they  thought  ffor  to  haue  entered  the  same  ; 

but  itt  ffell  out  not  vnto  their  mind, 

because  the  porters  there  were  much  vnkind ; 

ffor  why,  the  Sound  2  gyants  att  the  gate, 
136     with  [w]home  6  they  ffought  or  they  cold  in  theratt. 

then  went  they  vpp  wheras  they  head  did  stand  ; 

&  by  itt  sate  the  bewtyous  Claramande, 


The  King 
sends  men  to 
kill  him, 

but  he  kills 
them. 


Valentine 
goes  to 
subdue  him ; 


the  Wild 
Man  knocks 
him  down 
with  an  oak, 


but  gets 
stabbed  in 
return. 


Then  they 
make  it  up, 
and  ask  the 
Emperor 
leave  to  go 
to  an 
island  in 
Portingall, 


to  consult  a 
brass  head. 


They  go 
there, 


fight  two 
giants  to 
get  in, 


see  the  head 
and  fair 
Claramande, 


1  The  m  has  one  stroke  too  many  in 
the  MS.— F. 

2  It.— P. 

1  King  of  Fraunce,  qu. — P. 


«  heard.— P. 
•  unto. — P. 
6  whom. — P. 


398 


THE   EMPEROUR    AND    THE   CHILDE. 


who  asks 
the  head 
whose  son 
Valentine  is, 
and  who 
the  Wild 
Man  is. 
The  head 
says, 

"  You  are 
brothers, 
sons  of  the 
Greek 
Emperor, 


and  your 
mother  is  in 
King 

Ferragus's 
prison. 
Cut  the 
string  under 
Ur  sin's 
tongue,  and 
he'll  speak." 


This  is  done: 

Valentine 
marries 
Clara- 
mande ; 


and  the 
.  wo  sons 


kill 

"Ferragua, 
and  free 
their 
mother. 


Then  they 
all  go  to 
Greece, 


whom,  when  the  noble  valentine  did  see, 
140     he  swore  his  hart  ffor  euer  there  shold  bee. 

then  did  shee  speake  vnto  the  head  of  brasse, 

&  bade  itt  tell  whose  sonne  valentine  was, 

&  whom  the  wild  man  there  shold  bee. 
144     to  whom  the  head  gaue  answer  presentlye  : 

"  ffirst  be  it  knowen,  he  is  thy  brother  deere, 

&  you  are  both  sonnes  to  the  Grecyan  peere  ; 

&  yo^r  mother  wrongffullye  banished  was, 
148     &  you  were  both  borne  in  a  wild  fforrest ; 

&  that l  by  a  beare  vrsin  was  nurst  vpp, 

&  valentine  by  2  his  vnckles  court ; 

&  JOUT  mother  lyeth  in  prison  stronge 
152     with  "Kmg  fferagus,3  where  shee  hath  beene  long. 

alsoe  I  say,  looke  vnder  vrsines  tounge  ; 

there  shall  you  ffind  a  string  both  bigg  &  stronge  ; 

cut  that  in  tow,  &  then  his  speech  shall  breake ; 
156     &  this  is  all ;  &  I  noe  more  can  speake." 

then  vrsin  to  his  speeche  restored  was  hee, 

&  valentine  had  CLAREMONDE  soe  ffree. 

soe  al  together  4  on  their  lourney  went 
1 60     towards  their  mother  being  in  prison  pent ; 

&  soe  they  came  vnto  the  place  att  Last 

wheras  their  mother  was  in  prison  ffast ; 

&  him  they  slew  that  did  their  mother  keepe, 
1 64     &  soe  they  brought  her  out  of  prison  deepe. 

&  when  that  they  were  al  together  come, 

vnto  their  mother  they  then  made  them  knowne  ; 

which  when  shee  saw  her  owne  sonnes  sett  her  ffree, 
168     no  ioye  to  her  there  might  compared  bee. 

then  presentlye  they  purpose  to  take  read,5 

into  the  Land  of  greece  to  hye  w^th  speed. 

&  when  that  they  had  many  a  storme  ore  past, 
172     they  did  arriue  w^th-in  that  Land  att  last ; 


1  there. — P. 

2  in— P. 

3  This   is  the  name 


of    one   of  the 


Charlemagne  heroes. — F. 

4  MS.  altogether,  and  in  1.  165. 

5  counsel. — P. 


-F, 


THE    EMPEROUR   AND    THE    CHILDE. 


399 


then  on  their  lourney  towards  they  court  they  went, 

&  to  the  Emperour  a  messenger  they  sent, 

to  tell  him  ffreinds  of  his  were  comen  vpon  land, 

176     &  did  intreat  same  flavor  att  his  hand. 

when  the  Emperour  was  come  vnto  them  there, 
&  knew  the  woman  to  be  his  wiffe  most  deere, 
&  thai  the  other  2  were  his  owne  deare  sonnes, 

180     he  then  bewailed  their  happ  with  bitter  moanes, 
ffirst  thai  because  his  wiffe  was  wronge  exilde, 
&  ffor  the  greeffe  when  as  slice  traueled  with  child. 
&  soe  att  lenght,  in  spight  of  ffortunes  happ, 

184     they  liued  in  ioy,  &  fleared  1100  after  clappe. 

ffins. 


to  the  Court. 


When  the 
Emperor 
finds  his 
wife 
and  sons, 

he  bewails 
their  past 
sufferings ; 


and  they 
live  happily 
thereafter. 


400 


JKttfngt : 

THIS  piece  declares  that  women  will  have  their  own  way,  and 
further,  that  that  way  will  frequently  be  wanton.  It  attempts  to 
reconcile  husbands  to  the  loss  of  their  supremacy,  and  their 
other  consequent  troubles.  The  argument  is  not  always  thoroughly 
satisfactory ;  as,  when  we  are  taught  that  because  Paris  of  Troy 
got  into  such  trouble  for  running  away  with  another  man's  wife, 
therefore  we  cannot  expect  to  enjoy  any  immunity  from  trouble 
in  respect  of  our  own  wives.  We  cannot,  if  we  would,  says  the 
poem,  exercise  a  sufficiently  sharp  surveillance  over  them.  In 
all  ranks  of  life  they  "  have  their  own  will ; "  beggars'  wives,  and 
the  wives  of  better  men,  all  elude  and  mock  their  husbands. 
The  only  place  where  this  is  not  the  rule  is  Rome,  and  it  is  not 
so  there  simply  because  a  woman-pope  would  not  let  it  be  so. 
Thus  woman's  will  reigns  supreme  everywhere. 

But  perhaps  the  only  interest  this  sorry  composition  possesses 
is  its  illustrating  Hudibras  (Part  I.  canto  ii.  vv.  545-552): — 

Some  cried  the  Covenant,  instead 
Of  pudding-pies  and  ginger-bread ; 
And  some  or  brooms,  old  boots,  and  shoes, 
Bawl'd  out  to  purge  the  Commons'  House ; 
Instead  of  kitchen-stuff,  some  cry 
A  Gospel-preaching  Ministry ; 
And  some  for  old  suits,  coats,  or  cloak, 
No  surplices,  nor  Service-book : — 

and  FalstafFs  remark  on  the  worthy  Justice  Shallow,  that  "  a 
came  ever  in  the  rearward  of  the  fashion,  and  sung  those  tunes 
to  the  overscutched  huswives  that  he  heard  the  carmen  whistle, 
and  sware  they  were  his  fancies  or  his  good-nights."  Many 

1  A  Satire  on  the  Women. — P. 


SITTINOE   LATE. 


401 


other  references  to  the  sibilant  powers  of  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  century  carmen  are  given  by  Mr.  Chappell,  in  his 
Popular  Music  of  Olden  Time,  a  propos  of  the  air  called  "  The 
Carmen's  Whistle." 


16 


24 


28 


[page  317] 


SlTTINGE  :  late,  my  sclfe  alone, 

to  heare  the  birds  sweete  harmonye, 
one  sighed  sore  with  many  a  grone, 

"  my  wiffe  will  still  my  master  bee  !  " 
his  sig[h]es  ecclipsed  bright  Phebus  beames, 

his  hart  did  burne  like  setna  hill, 
his  teares  like  Nilus  fflowing  streames,1 

his  cryes  did  peirce  the  Eccho  shrill, 
with  thai  I  drew  my  care  aside 

to  heare  him  thus  complaine  of  ill ; 
his  greefe  &  mind  were  both  a-like, 

thai  ginnye  2  his  mlly  wold  hauc  her  owne  will. 

The  TLing  of  Sirya  mad  a  law, 

that  euery  3  man  with-in  his  land, 
that  he  shold  lordlye  keepe  in  awe 

his  wiffe,  &  those  that  did  with- stand, 
w/w'ch  acte  is  cleane  gone  out  of  mind 

of  all  degrees,  &  will  be  still ; 
pore  silly  husbands  are  soe  kind, 

they  let  their  wiues  haue  their  owne  will. 

When  Princely  Paris,  pride  of  Troye, 

had  stolen  away  'King  Menelaus  wiffe, 
10  yeeres  of  warr  was  all  his  loy, 

&  afterwards  bereaued  of  liffe. 
by  this  wee  see  that  Kings  are  tyed, 

as  well  as  subiects,  to  much  ill ; 
why  shold  wee  poore  men  thinke  itt  scorne 

to  let  our  wiues  haue  their  owne  will  ? 


I  heard  a 
man 

bewailing 
that  his 
wife  would 
be  his 
master ; 


he  wept,  and 
cried  shrilly, 


and  said  his 
filly  would 
have  her 


Men  won't 
keep  the 
King  of 
Syria's  law, 
that  men 
shall  keep 
their  wives 
in  order. 


Tar  is  got 


ten  years 
war  and  his 
death  for 
stealing  his 
wife. 

If  then  kings 
get  into 
trouble, 


1  streans  in  the  MS. — F.  2  MS.  may  be  grimye.—F.  3  for  every. — P. 


402 


SITTINGE   LATE. 


and  Gods  do 
so  too, 


don't  let  us 
mind  about 
letting  our 
wives  have 
their  own 
way. 


Even 
beggar- 
women 
get  their 
husbands 
into  scrapes ; 


All  thai  lookes  blacke,  diggs  not  ffor  coles  ; 
how  shold  our  chymneys  then  be  swept  ? 
&  he  thai  thinkes  to  lumpe  ore  Powles,1 
32         may  once  a  yeare  be  well  out  leapte  ; 
ffor  vulcan  wore  a  head  of  home  2 
when  least  misprision  was  of  ill. 
lett  no  man  liuing  thinke  itt  scorne 
36         to  let  his  wiffe  haue  her  owne  will  ! 


But  shee  thai  liues  by  nille  3  &  tape, 
&  wiih  her  bagge  &  lucett  4  beggs, 
oft  makes  her  husband  many  a  scape  5 
40         although  shee  goes  in  simple  raggs  ; 
ffor  hungry  doggs  will  alwayes  range, 

&  vnsauory  meate  will  staunch  their  mil  ; 
&  they  thai  take  delight  in  change 
44         will,  Nolens  Yolens,  haue  their  owne  will. 


and  if  a  man 

goes  out, 


his  place 
must  be 
supplied. 


(But  there 
are  no 
cuckolds  in 
Rome.) 


But  he  thai  goes  ffrom  dore  to  dore, 

&  cryes  "  old  buskins  ffor  new  broome  ;" 
althoe  his  liuing  be  but  poore, 

another  must  supply  his  roome. 
"  old  bootes  &  buskins  ffor  new  broome  ! 

come  buy,  ffaire  maids,  &  take  jour  mil ! 
there  are  no  Cucholds  made  att  Roome ; 

Pope  lone  hath  sett  itt  downe  by  will." 


1  Powles,  i.  e.  St.  Paul's.— P. 

2  Note  2  in  Brand's  Popular  Antiqui 
ties,  ed.  1841,  vol.  ii.  p.  126,  col.  1,  says, 
"  In  '  Paradoxical  Assertions  and  Philo 
sophical  Problems,  by  E.  H.  8vo.  Lond. 
1664,  p.  5,  'Why  Cuckolds  are  said  to 
wear   Horns  ? '  we  read  :  '  Is   not   this 
monster  said  to  wear  the  Horns  because 
other  Men   with   their  two  forefingers 
point  and  make  Horns  at  him  ?'  "  "Cuck 
old.  Cuckolled,  treated  in  the  way  that 


the  cuckow  (Lat.  cuculus)  serves  other 
birds,  viz.  by  laying  an  egg  in  their 
nest."  Wedgwood. — F. 

3  MS.  iulle,  but  as  the  dot  over  the  i 
is  very  often  misplaced  in  the  MS.  and 
nill  means  needle,  I  print  nille. — F. 

4  perhaps   budget. — P.     Fr.  lucet  or 
luchet  is  a  spade. — F. 

5  1.  A  misdemeanour  ...  3.  A  trick, 
shift,  or  evasion.     Halliwell. — F. 


SITTINGE   LATE.  403 

The  Carman  whistles  vp  &  downe  ; 

another  cryes  "  will  you  buy  any  blacke  l  ?  " 
the  cuntryman  is  held  a  clowne, 
56         when  better  men  haue  greater  lacke. 

thus  whiles  they  cards  are  shuffled  about,  it's  well 

the  knaue  will  in  the  decke  2  lye  still  ;  wives' 


&  if  all  secretts  were  found  out,  are  not 

known. 

60         I  doubt  a  number  wold  want  their  will. 

ffins. 


1  ?  Fr.  noir,  blacking,  or  picrre  noire,       or  mourning.  — F. 

Black   Oaker,   or   the   blaeko  marking-  2  A  pack  of  cards.     Halliwell. — F 

stone. — Cotgrave.      It  can't  mean   soot 


404 


Kifuu* : 

[In  nine  Parts.— P.] 

PERCY  thought  so  well  of  the  plot  of  this  Romance  that  he  chose 
it  for  analysis  in  his  Reliques  (v.  iii.  p.  xii.-xvi.  ed.  1765). 
Speaking  of  "  these  old  poetical  Legends,"  he  says,  "  it  will  be 
proper  to  give  at  least  one  specimen  of  their  skill  [that  is,  the 
skill  of  the  writers  of  them],  in  distributing  and  conducting  their 
fable,  by  which  it  will  be  seen  that  nature  and  common  sense  had 
supplied  in  these  old  simple  bards  the  want  of  critical  art,  and 
taught  them  some  of  the  most  essential  rules  of  Epic  Poetry.  I 
shall  select  the  Eomance  of  LIBIUS  DISCONIUS,  as  being  one  of 
those  mentioned  by  Chaucer,  and  either  shorter  or  more  intelli 
gible  than  the  others  he  has  quoted.2  If  an  Epic  Poem  may  be 
denned,  ( 3  A  fable  related  by  a  poet,  to  excite  admiration  and 
inspire  virtue,  by  representing  the  action  of  some  one  heroe, 
favoured  by  heaven,  who  executes  a  great  design,  spite  of  all  the 
obstacles  that  oppose  him  : '  I  know  not  why  we  should  withhold 
the  name  of  EPIC  POEM  from  the  piece  which  I  am  about  to 
analyse." 

1  This  Piece  may  be  considered  per-  St.  22* . — P. 

haps  as  one  of  the  first  rude  Attempts          N.B.  The  Rhyme  of  Sir  Thopas  seems 

towards  the  Epic  or  Narrative  Poem  in  to  be  intended  in  Imitation  of  this  old 

Europe  since  the  Roman  Times.     [See  v.  Piece.     N.B.  This  is  a  translation  from 

i.  p.  417,  1.  4.]      Nor   is    it  deffective  the  French.     Vid.  p.  327,  st.  15  [of  MS. 

[so]  in  the  most  essential  Parts  of  Epic  p.  441,  1.  706  here]. — P 
Poetry.      The  Hero  is  one.     The  great         2  Men  speken  of  Romaunces  of  Price, 
action  to  wfo'ch  every  thing  tends  is  one :  Of  Home-Child  and  Ipotis, 

there  is  little  interruption  of   episode  ;  Of  Bevis  and  Sir  Guy, 

&  it   [b]egins  nearer  the  [E]vent  than  Of  Sir  Libeaux  and  Blandamoure, 

most  of  that  age. — P.  But  Sir  Thopas  bereth  the  floure 

This    appears    to    be    more    ancient  Of  riall  chevallrie. — Rel.  iii.  p.  viii. 

than  the   Time   of  Chaucer.     See   The  s  Vide     "Discours    sur    la     Poesie 

Rhyme    of    Sir  Thopas   quoted   below,  Epique,"  prefixed  to  TJELEMAQUE. — P. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS.  405 

The  Bishop  then  gives  a  sketch  of  each  of  the  nine  Parts  of  the 
Romance,  and  winds  up  with,  "  Such  is  the  fable  of  this  ancient 
piece  :  which  the  reader  may  observe,  is  as  regular  in  its  conduct 
as  any  of  the  finest  poems  of  classical  antiquity.  If  the  execution, 
particularly  as  to  the  diction  and  sentiments,  were  but  equal  to  the 
plan,  it  would  be  a  capital  performance  ;  but  this  is  such  as 
might  be  expected  in  rude  and  ignorant  times,  and  in  a  barbarous 
unpolished  language."  Poor  times !  Why  hadn't  you  a  bishop 
with  a  blacking-brush  to  make  you  shine  ? 

The  subject  of  the  story  is  one  that,  told  in  the  language  and 
clothed  with  the  feelings  of  each  successive  age,  can  never  fail  to 
interest  that  age  at  least, — the  adventures  of  a  young  unknown 
man  on  his  dangerous  road  from  poverty  to  success  in  life,  from 
nameless  obscurity  to  rank  and  fame,  from  the  consciousness  of 
power  existing  only  in  the  youth's  own  brain,  to  the  full  mani 
festation  of  that  power,  in  the  sight  and  with  the  applause  of  all 
beholders,  who  rejoice  to  see  it  receive  its  fitting  reward. 

In  the  present  instance,  Lybius  comes  from  his  mother's  apron- 
strings,  not  knowing  his  father  (he  is  Ga wain's  bastard  !)  to  Arthur's 
court.  He  asks  for  knighthood,  and  the  first  adventure  that  comes 
in.  He  gets  both  ;  and  his  task  is  to  free  the  Lady  of  Sinadowne 
from  prison.  Though  scorned  for  his  youth  by  her  messengers, 
he  conquers,  one  after  another,  thirteen  formidable  opponents, 
of  whom  the  first  nine  are  Sir  William  de  la  Braunch,  his  three 
cousins,  two  giants,  Sir  Gefferon,  Sir  Otes  de  Lisle,  and  the  Giant 
Mangys.  A  more  insidious  foe  is  behind,  the  sorceress  of  the 
Golden  Isle,  whom  our  hero  has  rescued  from  Mangys.  For  a 
year  she  keeps  him  from  fulfilling  his  task  ;  but  at  last  he  breaks 

1  That  story  of  rising  from  an  obscure  ever  ignoble  the  woman,  or  however  low 

beginning  is  a  very  common  one  in  me-  the  circumstances  under  which  the  child 

diseval  literature,  and  belongs  to  a  prin-  received  its  first   nurture,  the   blood  it 

ciple  of  mediaeval  sentiment,  that  noble  had  received  from  the  father  would  in- 

blood  was  never  lost,  (bastardy  was  con-  evitably  urge  it  onward  till  it  reached 

sidered  no   real  stain ; )   and  that  if  a  its  natural  station.      There  are  stories 

knight,  for  instance,  met  with  a  woman  illustrating  this  feeling  in  all  its  forms, 

in  a  wood,  and  got  her  with  child,  how-  — T.  Wright. 


406  LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

away  from  her,  and  goes  to  Sinadowne.  There  he  conquers  one 
knight,  Sir  Lambers,  and  then  two  necromancers  who  have 
turned  the  Lady  of  Sinadowne  into  a  serpent.  The  serpent 
kisses  him,  and  at  the  kiss  turns  into  a  lovely  princess,  who 
offers  him  herself  and  her  lands.  He  accepts  both,  marries 
the  Lady,  and  carries  her  off  to  King  Arthur's  court. 

The  English  Eomance  was  first  printed  by  Eitson  from  the 
Cotton  MS.  Caligula  A.  ii.  This  text  refers  several  times  to  its 
original,  "the  Frenssch  tale  "  (1.  2122,  Ritson,  ii.  90;  1.  222,  ib. 
10,  &c.).  On  this,  Eitson  remarked,  "The  French  original  is 
unknown,"  ii.  253.  The  same  statement  continued  true  for 
many  a  year.  Like  the  original  of  Sir  Generides  (which  I  edited 
from  Mr.  Tollem  ache's  MS.  for  Mr.  Gribbs  as  his  gift-book  to 
the  Eoxburghe  Club  in  1865,  and  the  French  of  which  is  still  to 
seek),  the  original  of  Lybeaus  Disconus  could  not  be  found.  But 
a  lucky  purchase  by  one  of  our  subscribers,  the  Due  d'Aumale, 
of  a  MS.  volume  of  French  poems,  and  a  luckier  placing  by  him 
of  it  in  the  hands  of  Professor  Hippeau  of  Caen  in  1855,  led 
to  the  discovery  of  the  long-hidden  French  Eomance,  Li  Biaus 
Desconneus,  and  also  the  name  of  its  writer,  EENALS  DE  BIAUJU, 
or, — as  M.  Hippeau  modernises  it, — EENAULD  DE  BEAUJETJ.  In 
1860  M.  Hippeau  published  the  poem  as  Le  Bel  Inconnu,  dating 
its  writer  as  of  the  thirteenth  century.  It  is  not  certain  that  De 
Biauju's  text  is  the  one  that  the  English  translators  or  adapters 
worked  from ;  for  in  the  two  passages  above  referred  to,  where 
the  English  text  refers  to  the  French  tale  as  the  authority  for 
its  statements,  De  Biauju's  text  contains  no  such  statements. 
But  that  is  not  conclusive,  for  we  know  that  our  English 
versifiers  were  seldom  translators  only :  like  our  modern  play 
wrights,  they  treated  their  French  (or  French-writing)  originals 
with  great  freedom,  cut  out  what  they  didn't  want,  altered  what 
they  didn't  like,  and  put  in  incidents  at  discretion.  As  one 
instance,  take  Eobert  of  Brunne's  treatment  of  William  of 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS.  407 

Wadington's  Manuel  des  Pechiez,  detailed  in  my  preface  to  the 
Handlyng  Synne.  De  Biauju's  text  may  have  given  rise  to 
some  lost  later  version  which  the  English  adapters  handled  ;  but 
I  see  no  reason  why  the  early  French  text  which  M.  Hippeau 
has  printed  may  not  have  been  before  our  early  men.  The 
motive  is  the  same  in  both  stories,  and  the  chief  incidents  are 
the  same,  though  in  one — the  way  in  which  the  Fairy  of  the 
Grolden  Isle,  or  La  Damoiselle  as  Blances  Mains,  is  represented, 
and  the  latter  part  of  the  story  told — they  differ  markedly. 
And  as  in  this  part  of  the  French  poem  M.  Hippeau  finds  the 
original  of  part  of  the  story  of  Tasso's  Gerusalemme  Liberata, 
it  may  be  as  well  to  give  M.  Hippeau's  abstract,  remembering 
that  the  English  version  makes  the  lady  a  mere  sorceress  who 
detains  Lybius  twelve  months  from  pursuing  the  task  that  he 
had  vowed  to  accomplish,  and  then  appears  no  more  in  the  story. 
The  French  text  makes  her  keep  him  only  a  day  before  he  has 
freed  the  Lady  of  Sinadowne ;  but  after  he  has  done  this,  and 
she  has  offered  herself  and  her  lands  to  him,  De  Biauju  introduces 
the  Fairy  again — the  English  text  saying  nothing  of  her — and 
makes  Lybius  halt  at  the  Lady  of  Sinadowne's  offer  thus  : 

The  offer  is  tempting  ;  but  the  laws  of  chivalry  are  opposed  to  his 
pledging  his  troth  without  having  received  the  authorisation  of  King 
Arthur.  All  the  barons  of  the  pays  de  Galles  arrive  at  the  Cite 
Gastee ;  bishops  and  abbots  also  come  to  purify  by  their  pious  cere 
monies  and  their  processions  the  places  over  which  the  infernal  spirits 
have  cast  a  spell ;  and,  before  all  her  baronage,  Blonde  Esmcree 
declares  that  she  has  decided  on  taking  Giglain  as  her  spouse.  A 
deputation  of  lords  goes  to  him,  and  the  knight  still  answers  to  the 
long  request  addressed  to  him,  that  he  can  do  nothing  without  the 
consent  of  King  Arthur.  It  is  the  king  who,  in  granting  the  princess 
the  help  of  one  of  his  knights,  has  the  right  to  all  his  gratitude.  She 
ought  then  to  go  to  his  court,  with  all  her  barons,  to  thank  him. 

The  queen  prepares  to  set  out,  in  the  sweet  anticipation  that  the 
valorous  knight  will  accompany  her  in  her  journey.  But  widely 
different  feelings  now  move  le  Bel  Inconnu.  He  cannot  drive  from 
his  heart  the  recollection  of  the  beautiful  fairy  of  the  He  d'Or. 


408  LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

The  description  of  this  unconquerable  passion  occupies  a  large 
space  in  the  story  of  our  trouvere.  He  finds  happy  expressions  to 
describe  those  torments  of  love  which  he  appears,  from  the  frequent 
reference  he  makes  to  himself,  to  know  only  too  well.  Readers  will 
be  astonished  to  see  with  what  pliancy  the  language  of  the  thirteenth 
century  lent  itself  to  the  developement  of  the  most  delicate  shades  of 
feeling.  Giglain  knows  not  at  what  point  to  stop.  He  dares  not 
return  to  the  lie  d'Or,  which  he  left  so  abruptly  ;  he  cannot,  on  the 
other  hand,  drive  away  the  too  seductive  image  which  besieges  him 
night  and  day.  The  advice  of  Robert,  his  faithful  squire,  decides 
him  on  letting  the  daughter  of  the  king  of  Galles  set  out  alone.  She 
parts  from  him  with  the  sadness  of  resignation,  and  he  sets  out  for 
the  lie  d'Or.  But  there  his  perplexities  begin  again.  Shall  he  go  and 
present  himself  to  the  woman  whose  love  he  has  seemed  to  disdain  ? 
He  weeps,  he  laments,  he  is  grievously  distressed.  But  happily 
Robert  is  always  at  his  side  :  he  has  much  more  confidence  than  his 
master  in  the  kindly  feelings  of  the  fairy.  She  wanted  to  keep  him, 
she  was  angry  at  his  going,  she  will  then  see  him  again  with  joy. 

At  length  the  dreaded  interview  takes  place.  Having  reached  the 
magnificent  fruit- garden  (verger),  which  leads  to  the  palace  of  the 
lie  d'Or,  a  delightful  garden  which  contains  all  of  most  perfect  that 
God  has  created  upon  earth,  Giglain  and  his  companion  perceive  the 
Fairy  of  the  White  Hands  (fee  aux  Handles  mains),  and  the  former 
at  once  directs  his  steps  towards  her.  The  fairy  receives  him  with 
an  appearance  of  anger,  which  soon  vanishes  under  the  tender  pro 
testations  of  love  with  which  Giglain  accompanies  the  explanations 
that  he  gives  her.  She  asks  nothing  better  than  to  forgive  him,  and 
she  conducts  the  happy  knight  into  her  castle. 

If  the  passion  of  Giglain  was  violent  when  he  was  far  from  the 
Fairy  of  the  Golden  Isle,  how  can  he  resist  it  when  he  finds  himself 
in  the  middle  of  her  palace,  where  all  the  attendants,  keeping  discreetly 
at  a  distance,  soon  leave  him  alone  with  her  ? 

We  are,  you  will  perceive,  in  the  midst  of  the  palace  of  Armida. 
The  situation  of  our  knight  in  this  charming  abode,  recalls,  in  fact, 
quite  naturally,  that  which  made  Rinaldo  forget,  in  the  bosom  of  the 
delights  in  which  an  enchantress  held  him,  his  most  sacred  duties 
and  the  glory  of  combat.  How,  and  by  means  of  what  changes,  have 
the  adventures  of  Giglain  in  the  castle  of  the  Golden  Isle  become  one 
of  the  most  interesting  episodes  of  the  Gerusalemme  Inberata  ?  1  It  is 

1  On  La  Dame  d'Amore  of  the  Cotton  observes,  v.  ii.  p.  263,  "  This  lady  bears 
text  (and  ours,  p.  470,  1.  1508),  Kitson  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  no  less 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS.  409 

a  study  which  would  require  long  unfoldings  (dev  elopements),  and 
which  we  may  try  elsewhere  when  we  have  to  occupy  ourselves  with 
the  translations  or  imitations  of  which  the  poems  of  our  trouveres 
have  been  the  object  among  the  different  nations  of  Europe. 

However  that  may  be,  we  shall  only  follow  with  reserve  the  French 
poet  in  this  part  of  his  story,  where  he  indulges  a  little  too  much,  like 
his  brethren  of  the  same  epoch,  in  the  descriptive  style.  The  fairy 
would  not  have  been  a  woman  if,  notwithstanding  her  tenderness  for 
le  Bel  InconnUj  she  had  completely  forgotten  the  insult  done  to  her 
charms,  however  honourable  might  have  been  the  cause  which  took 
him  the  first  time  from  the  Golden  Isle.  She  forgives  him,  but  only 
after  having  revenged  herself  slightly.  It  is  not  in  vain  that  he 
inhabits  an  enchanted  palace.  During  the  night  he  is  twice  a  prey 
to  a  frightful  illusion.  He  wakes  and  starts  up;  he  seems  to  be 
bearing  on  his  head  the  whole  roof  of  the  hall ;  he  calls  to  his  help 
all  the  attendants  of  the  fairy.  They  run  to  him  and  find  him 
struggling  with  his  pillow,  which  is  over  his  head.  The  second  time, 
he  gets  out  of  bed  and  arrives  at  a  torrent,  which  he  crosses  on  a 
narrow  plank  ;  terror  seizes  him  ;  he  thinks  that  the  quivering  waves 
draw  him  in  ;  he  clings  to  the  plank  with  all  his  might,  and  then 
calls  the  whole  house  to  his  help.  They  find  him  grasping  with  his 
two  hands  a  sparrow-hawk's  perch. 

The  Lady  of  the  Golden  Isle  thinks  him  sufficiently  punished.  We 
will  here  leave  our  author  a  second  time  to  add,  to  his  glory,  that  we 
find  again  in  his  poem  the  means  employed  by  the  Italian  poet  to 
snatch  his  hero  from  the  seductions  of  Armida. 

We  left  the  daughter  of  the  king  of  Gallcs  journeying  but  joylessly 
towards  King  Arthur's  court.  She  there  experiences  a  reception 
worthy  of  her ;  all  the  knights  share  her  grief  when  she  informs  them 
that  the  warrior  to  whom  she  owes  her  deliverance,  has  not  accom 
panied  her,  and  that  she  knows  not  whither  he  has  directed  his  steps. 

Arthur  knows  well  how  to  bring  back  to  him  the  most  illustrious 
of  the  knights  of  the  Round  Table.  He  has  a  grand  tournament 
proclaimed  all  over  the  country.  One  day  two  players  (jongleurs) 
present  themselves  at  the  castle  of  the  Golden  Isle,  and  penetrate 
even  to  le  ~Bel  Inconnu.  They  announce  to  him  the  feast  of  arms 
prepared  by  King  Arthur.  At  this  news,  Giglain  hesitates  not  an 
instant ;  he  forgets  his  love,  to  think  only  of  glory.  In  vain  does 

magical     than     beauteous    fairys,    the       and    Rogero    in    the  manner    la    dame 
Calypso  of  Homer,   and  the  Alcina   of       d'amorc  here  treats  Lybeaus." 
Ariosto;  both  of  whom  detain'd  Ulysses 

VOL.  II.  E  E 


410  LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 

the  beautiful  fairy  try  to  hold  him.  back.  She  knows  beforehand,  in 
her  double  quality  of  woman  and  fairy,  that  the  love  of  the  handsome 
knight  cannot  be  eternal.  She  has  had  to  prepare  herself  long  since 
to  lose  him.  I  like  better,  I  declare,  the  jealous  fury  of  Armida  than 
the  easy  resignation  of  the  Fairy  of  the  White  Hands. 

At  break  of  day,  Giglain,  who  had  gone  to  bed  the  night  before  in 
the  palace  of  the  Golden  Isle,  wakes  and  finds  at  his  side  his  horse 
and  his  squire  Robert,  in  the  middle  of  a  dark  forest,  whither  the  all- 
power  of  the  fairy  had  transported  him.  Though  he  is  a  little  sur 
prised  at  what  has  happened,  he  takes  his  fate  bravely,  and  sets 
forward  without  delay  towards  the  place  assigned  as  the  rendezvous 
of  the  paladins  (adventure-seeking  heroes)  who  are  to  take  part  in 
the  tournay. 

Though  the  narratives  which  have  as  their  subject  these  brilliant 
jousts  are  generally  the  parts  treated  by  the  authors  of  our  poems 
with  a  partiality  justified  by  the  desire  of  pleasing  the  noble  lords  for 
whom  they  wrote,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  tournament  which 
could  sustain  comparison  with  that  of  Valedon.  Walter  Scott  would 
seem !  to  have  been  inspired  by  it  in  his  account  of  the  famous  passage 
of  arms  at  Ashby.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  all  the  honour  of  the 
day  belongs  to  le  Bel  Inconnu.  The  heat  of  the  battle  has  dissipated 
the  last  vestiges  of  his  love  for  the  Fairy  of  the  White  Hands.  Having 
married  the  princess  of  Galles,  he  delays  not  to  go  and  take  possession 
of  the  crown  which  so  many  high  deeds  have  rendered  him  worthy  of. 

All  this  tantalising  of  the  Lady  of  Sinadowne,  keeping  her 
waiting  for  her  lover  after  she  had  been  so  many  years  serpentised 
or  wivernised  by  the  two  necromancers,  the  English  adapter  has 
thought  unfair,  and  cut  out.  Must  not  we  sympathise  with  him? 
What  should  we  have  said  to  Mr.  Tennyson  if  he  had  kept  The 
Sleeping  Beauty  waiting  a  year  for  her  husband  after  she  had 
been  kissed?  Voted  him  a  hard-hearted  Frenchman,  clearly. 
But  of  course  he  has  done  nothing  so  wrong.  Well,  besides  this, 
the  adapter  has,  as  remarked  in  the  notes,  cut  out  all  about 
Renals  de  Biauju's  own  lady-love,  for  whom  he  composed  the 
poem — had  the  poor  Englishman  no  sweetheart? — all  about 

1  As  he  died  in  1832,  and  the  French  there  is  some  difficulty  in  this  semblerait 
Romance  was  not  published  till  I860,  s'en  etre  inspire. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS.  411 

Robers,  Lybius's  squire,  an  important  personage  in  the  French 
Eomance ;  and  all  about  the  French  tale  of  the  Falcon  (though 
the  English  Part  IV.  may  be  taken  to  represent  this),  &c.  &c. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  adapter  introduces  a  fresh  Part  (IV.) 
into  the  English  text ;  puts  in  the  incident  of  Lybius's  diving 
down  at  a  knight  and  slicing  his  head  off  (p.  492)  as  a  sort  of 
refresher  before  encountering  the  necromantic  perils  of  the 
Castle  of  Sinadowne  ;  and  also  alters  the  place  of  the  adventure 
with  Sir  William  de  la  Braunch's  (or  Bliobleris's)  three  cousins, 
putting  it  before,  instead  of  after,  the  fight  with  the  two  giants 
(p.  433-7,  and  p.  438-41),  besides  many  minor  variations.  The 
telling  of  the  story  varies  all  through  ;  but  so  far  as  I  can  judge, 
the  original  French  of  De  Biauju  is  a  far  better  piece  of  work 
than  that  of  any  of  his  adapters. 

Of  English  MSS.  of  Lybius  I  know  only  five :  the  Cotton 
Caligula  A  ii.,  printed  by  Ritson  and  M.  Hippeau  ;  the  fragment 
in  the  Lincoln's  Inn  MS.  150;  the  Lambeth  MS.  306;  our 
Percy  folio,  and  the  Ashmole  MS.  61,  leaf  38,  back,  of  which 
Mr.  Coxe,  Bodley  Librarian,  has  just  told  me.  Of  these  I  judge 
the  Lincoln's  Inn  vellum  one  to  be  the  oldest,  both  in  writing 
(ab.  1430-40  A.D.),  and  in  its  preservation  of  the  early  double 
vowel  for  the  later  single  one,  ]>eo,  seotye,  heold,  feol.  The 
paper  Cotton  MS.  comes  next  (ab.  1460  A.D.);  third,  the  Ash- 
mole  61,  on  paper,  written  towards  the  end  of  the  15th  century, 
says  Mr.  Coxe,  containing  2200  lines  more  or  less,  and  beginning 
"  Ihesu  Cryst  ovvre  Sauyowre  "  ;  then  the  Lambeth  one,  also  on 
paper  (?  about  1480  A.D.),  and  lastly  the  Percy.  The  Cotton 
text  is  interesting  on  account  of  its  changes  of  d  and  thl.  which 
I  suppose  to  be  of  Berkshire  origin, — if  one  may  judge  from 

1  The  d  is  substituted  for  th.\n  the  de,  thee,  1.  673.     On  the  other  hand,  th 

following,  among  other  instances: — dur-  is  put  for  d,  in  wither,  under,  1.  1039, 

stede,  thirsted,  1.  1336;  durste,  thirst,  1.  1.    1002,  1.    1191;  thoghtyer,  doughtier, 

1343;  clod(de,  clothed,  1.  1407;  ydodeth,  1.     1091;     but    doghty,    1.    1578,    and 

clothed,  1.  1776;  dydyr,  thither,  1.  1668;  thoitghty,  1.  1851  ;  thicr,  deer,  1.  1133; 

but  thyder,  1.  2082;  dare,  there,  1.  1870;  tfcre,   dearly,    1.    1158;    thorcs,   doors, 


412  LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

Mr.  Tom  Hughes's  books, — or  some  county  near.1  The  infini 
tive  in  y  also  shows  that  the  text  is  Southern 2 :  army,  arm, 
1.  216  ;  justy,  joust,  1.  909,  1.  951,  but  juste,  1.  1542  ;  schewy, 
show,  1.  746  ;  spendy,  spend,  1.  986,  &c. 

Grateful  as  I  feel  to  M.  Hippeau  for  his  discovery  and  printing 
of  the  French  text,  I  owe  him  a  slight  grudge  for  describing 
"1'auteur  du  Canterbury  Tales"  as  "  le  poetique  traducteur  de  nos 
trouveres,"  and  therefore  note  that  his  print  of  the  Cotton  MS.  is 
full  of  those  mistakes  that  "a  remarkably  intelligent  foreigner" 
would  naturally  make,  u  for  n,  and  n  for  u,  &c. 3 ;  to  say 
nothing  of  other  forms  like  pryue  for  J?ryue,  thrive;  Jcepte  for 
lepte,  1.  2039;  be  for  he,  1.  1388;  thogh  tyer  for  thoghtyer, 
doughtier,  1.  1091 ;  Tie  for  here,  her,  1.  887  ;  gwych  for  swych, 
such,  1.  712  ;  Siveyn  for  Eweyn,  1.  219  ;  lymest,  for  lyme  &,  lime 
and,  1.  713. 

It  may  look  rather  spiteful  to  print  these  things,  but  editors 
are  bound  to  consider  the  language  they  study  rather  than  other 
editors'  feelings  ;  and  with  the  full  conviction  that  I  invite  similar 
treatment  for  the  French  as  well  as  the  English  texts  I  have 
edited  and  may  edit,  and  that  in  all  there  are  and  will  be 
mistakes,4  I  hold  it  best  to  point  out  the  misreadings  in  Early 
English  that  come  across  me,  for  the  sake  of  the  language  and 

1.  1705;  tho,  do,  1.531,  &c.,  and  in  many  zewy?'    but   never,  '  Wull  ye  zewy  up 

other  places.     I  just  copy  the  few  that  I  thease  zeam  ?  '  " — Barnes,  p.*  28. 

noted  years  ago  on  a  blank  leaf,  when  3  denies  for  dentes,  1.   1304;  fou  for 

reading  part  of  M.  Hippeau's  edition,  fon,  foes,  1.  1530,  1.  1950;  sauugh  for 

1  Probably  Dorsetshire.    I  heard  draw  saun},  Fr.  sans,  without  1.  1860  [In  J>at 

for  throw  near  Weymouth  this  autumn,  felde   saun3  fayle.     MS.  leaf   55,  back, 

and  Mr.  Barnes  says  in  his   Grammar  col.  1,  line  18.      See  the  last  lines   of 

and  Glossary  of  the  Dorset  Dialect,  1863,  the  pieces  in  note,  p  413] ;  hau  for  han, 

p.  16,  "  Th  of  the  English  sometimes,  have,  1.  1263  ;  woueth  for  woneth,  dwells, 

and  mostly  before  r,  becomes  d,  as  drow  1.  657  ;  gau  for  gan,  did,  1.  343  ;  descryne 

for  throw.      Conversely,  th   (fc)  is   sub-  for  descryue,  describe,  1.  1330,  1.  1428; 

stituted  in  Dorset  for  the  English  d,  as  honede  for  houede,  halted,  1.  1562;  kc- 

blaZer,  a  bladder,  la$er,  a  ladder."     Mr.  nere  for  keuere,  recover,  1.  1983  ;  lencda 

Hughes  says  he  does  not  remember  hear-  for  leuede,  lived,  1.  2125. 

ing  this  th  and  d  change  in  Berkshire.  4  Claude  Platin's  confession,  -'mon  ig- 

'*•  "  In  the  Dorset  the  verb  takes  y  only  norancc,  laquelle  n'ist  pas  petite"  (page 

when  it  is  absolute,  and  never  with  an  415  here),  is  the  motto  for  many  of  us, 

accusative  case.     We  may  say,  '  Can  ye  adding  carelessness. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


413 


its  students.  But  to  return  from  this  digression  ;  the  Lambeth 
MS.  is  in  "  The  Wright's  Chaste  Wife  "  volume,  and  seems  to  be 
a  later  copy  of  a  text  like  the  Cotton.  Some  readings  from  it 
are  given  in  the  notes  from  Mr.  Warwick  King's  transcript 
of  it  for  the  Early  English  Text  Society.  By  way  of  exhibiting 
some  of  the  differences  of  the  five  English  texts,  I  put  beside  the 
first  bit  of  the  Lincoln's  Inn  fragment  the  passages  corresponding 
to  it  in  the  other  MSS.,1  and  at  the  end  of  the  Komance  as 


1  Lincoln's  Inn  MS.  150,  Art.  1, 

faded,  begins. 
J>an  sir  libeus  ran 
J>ar  Manges  scheld  lay, 

And  vp  he  con  hit  fange  : 
fast  ho  ran  to  him, 
And  smot  him  wi}>  mayn, 

And  other  gon  asa[ile.] 
vnto  >eo  day  was  dyme  . . 
Bysyde  )>eo  water 

J>eo  kynges  heold  bataile. 
Libeus  was  warryour  wy3t, 
And  3af  a  strok  of  myjt 

J>oww3  gepoiw  [?]  plate  and  maile, 
)?oru3  his  scholdur  bon, 
J?at  his  ry3t  arm  anon 

feol  in  \>eo  feld  saunfailo. 

MS.  Lambeth  306,  leaf  94,  back. 
Than  lybeous  rannc  aw-waye 
There  Mangis  sheldo  laye, 
And  vp  he  gaii  hit  fange, 
And  ran  a-gayne  to  hym. 
Witli  strokys  sharps  and  gryme 

Eyther  other  ganno  assayle. 
Till  the  day  was  dyme, 
Vpon  the  watir  brym 

By-twene  hem  was  bataylle. 
Lybeous  was  werreoi^r  wight, 
And  smote  a  stroke  of  myght 

Throwe  lepowne,  plate,  and  mayle, 
Thorowe  the  shulderbone, 
That  his  Right  Arme  A-none   [leaf  95J 
Ffell  in  the  felde  saunce  fayle. 

Ashmole  MS. 

Than  lybeus  ranne  A-wey 
There  magus  seheld  ley, 

And  vp  he  gaue  it  fonge ; 
And  libeus  ra?me  to  \\yrn  A-3ene,  Clcaf  52b] 
And  smote  hym  witA  meyne ; 
Aythere  o\>er  gane  A-seyle. 
To  J>e  dey  was  dywme, 
Be-syde  J>e  water  brywme 


Cot.  Colig.  A.  ii.  leaf  50,  col  1. 
t>anne  lybeauus  ran  away 
)>erc  )>rtt  mangys  scheld  lay, 

And  vp  he  gan  hyt  fonge, 
And  Ran  a-gayn  to  hym.  [col.  2] 

Viith  strokes  strout  &  grym 

To-gydere  }>ey  go;me  a-sayle. 
Be-syde  b«t  ryuere  brym, 
Tylle  hyt  derkede  dym, 

Be-twene  hem  was  batayle. 
Lybeauus  was  werroure  wy3t, 
And  smot  a  strok  of  my3t 

J>oru3  gypelle,  plate,  &  mayllc, 
ForJ?  with  >e  scholdere  bon, 
Mangys  arm  fyllc  of  a-noon 

In-to  \>Q  feld  saun3  fayle. 

Percy  Folio,  ^.337. 
then  Sir  Lybius  raun  away 
thither  were  Mangis  sheild  Lay  ; 

&  vp  he  can  itt  gett, 
&  ran  againe  to  him, 
w/th  stroakes  great  and  grim 

together  they  did  assayle  ; 
there  beside  the  watter  brimne 
till  it  vaxed  wonderous  drimn, 

betweene  them  lasted  that  battell. 
S/r  Lybius  was  warryour  wight, 
&  smote  a  stroke  of  much  might ; 

through  hawberke,  plate  and  maile, 
hee  smote  of  by  the  shoolder  bone 
his  right  armo  soone  and  anon 

into  the  ffeild  with-out  ffaile. 

61,  leaf  52. 

The  kny3htcs  held  bateyle. 
Syre  libeus  was  weryoure  wy3ht, 
And  gaue  strokes  of  my3ht 

Throujht  plate  and  male, 
And  throw  his  schuldcr  bone, 
That  hys  ryght  Arme  Anone 

Fell  in  >e  feld  wit^-outen  fryle. 


414  LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

printed  here,  p.  497,  will  be  found  the  endings  of  the  Lincoln's 
Inn,  Cotton,  Lambeth,  and  Ash  mole  texts,  for  further  contrast 
with  the  language  of  the  Percy  folio.  I  have  not  had  time  to 
collate  them  throughout,  and  Mr.  Brock,  who  began  the  collation 
with  the  Cotton  MS.,  soon  gave  it  up  as  involving  too  much 
time  and  trouble  for  an  adequate  result,  the  second  volume  of 
Ritson  being  easily  accessible  to  all  readers. 
Ritson  says  that  this  Romance 

was  certainly  printed  before  the  year  1600,  being  mention'd  by  the 
name  of  "  Libbius,"  in  "  Vertues  common  wealth  :  or  The  highway  to 
honour,"  by  Henry  Crosse,  publish'd  in  that  year;  and  is  even 
alluded  to  by  Skelton,  who  dye'd  in  1529  : 

And  of  sir  Libius  named  Disconius.  .  .  . 

A  story  similar  to  that  which  forms  the  principal  subject  of  the 
present  poem  may  be  found  in  the  "Voiage  and  travail  e  of  sir  John 
Maundeville  "  (London,  1725,  8vo.  P.  28).  It,  likewise,  by  some 
means,  has  made  its  way  into  a  pretendedly  ancient  Northumbrian 
ballad  intitle'd  "The  laidly  worm  of  Spindleston-heugh,"  writen,  in 
reality,  by  Robert  Lambe,  vicar  of  Norham,  authour  of  The  history 
of  chess,  &c.,  who  had,  however,  hear'd  some  old  stanzas,  of  which 
he  avail'd  himself,  sung  by  a  maid-servant.  The  remote  original  of 
all  these  storys  was,  probablely,  much  older  than  the  time  of 
Herodotus,  by  whom  it  is  relateed  (Urania). 

In  French  there  wa&  a  prose  translation  of  a  Spanish  romance 
mixing  up  a  Charlemagnian  hero  with  our  Arthurian  Gryngelayn, 
printed  in  1530,  which  Brunet  (ed.  1814)  enters  thus: 

G-IGLAN  (1'histoire  de),  fils  de  messire  Grauvain,  qui  fut  roi  de  Galles ; 
et  de  Geoffroy  de  Mayence,  son  compaignon :  translate  d'espaignol  en 
francois  par  Claude  Platin,  Lyon,  Cl.  Nourry,  1530,  m-4.  goth.  fig. 

This  is,  says  M.  Hippeau,  a  fairly  correct  reproduction  of  the 
French  Li  Biaus  Desconneus,  "  sauf  quelques  additions  peu 
heureuses."  His  extract  from  Claude  Platin's  prologue  is  so 
pretty  that  I  give  it  here  : 

Pour  eviter  oysivete,  mere  et  nourrice  des  vices,  et  aussi  pour 
complaire  a  tous  ceulx  qui  prennent  plaisir  a  lire  et  a  ouyr  lire  les 
livres  des  anciens,  qui  ont  vescu  si  vertueusement  en  leur  temps, 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


415 


que  la  renomee  en  sera  jusques  a  la  fin  du  siecle,  lesquelles  ceuvres 
vertueuses  doivent  esmouvoir  les  cueurs  des  humains  de  les  ensuyvir 
en  vertas  en  haultz  faitz,  moi  FR£RE  CLAUDE  PLATIN,  humble  religieux 
de  1'ordre  monseigneur  sainct  Anthoine,  ung  jour,  en  une  petite 
librairie  ou  j'estoye,  trouvay  un  gros  livre  de  parchemin  bien  vieil, 
escript  en  rime  espaignole,  assez  difficile  a  entendre,  auquel  trouvay 
une  petite  hystoire  laaqelle  me  sembla  bien  plaisante,  qui  parloit  de 
deux  nobles  chevaliers  qui  furent  du  temps  du  noble  *oi  Artus  et  des 
nobles  chevaliers  de  la  Table-Ronde.  .  .  J'ay  done  voulu  translater  la 
dicte  hystoire  de  cette  rime  espaignole,  en  prose  francoyse,  au  moins 
mal  que  j'ay  peu,  selon  mon  petit  entendement,  a  celle  fin  que  plus 
facilement  peust  estre  entendue  de  ceulx  qui  prendront  plaisir  a  la 
lire  ou  ouyr  lire  :  ausquelz  je  prie  que  les  faultes  qui  y  seront  trouvees, 
ils  les  vueillent  corriger,  et  excuser  mon  ignorance,  laquelle  n'est  pas 
petite ;  et  aussi  de  ne  se  arrester  ausdictes  faultes,  mais  s'il  y  a  riens 
de  bon,  qu'ilz  en  facent  leur  prouffit. 

With  what  better  commendation  to  the  reader  can  I  close  this 
rambling  Introduction,  or  leave  him  to  study  the  poem  of  "  The 
Fayre  Unknown  "  ? 


1  lESUS  Christ,  Christen  Kinge,2 
&  his  mother  thai  sweete  thing,3 

helpe  them  att  their  neede 
thai  will  listen  to  my  tale  ! 
of  a  knight  I  will  you  tell,4 

a  doughtye  man  of  deede, 


Christ  and 
Mary 


help  my 
hearers  1 


I'll  tell  you 


1  The  Eomance  in  the   Cotton  MS. 
Caligula  A  ii.  begins  thus : 

INCIPIT    LYBEATTS    DISCONIUS. 

^[  Ihesu  cryst  oure  sauyoure, 

And  hys  modyr  }?at  swete  flowre, 

Helpe  hem  at  here  nede 
Jjflt  harkenej)  of  a  cowquerouir, 
Wys  of  wytte,  &  whyjt  werrowr, 

And  dou3ty  man  yn  dede. 

Hys  name  was  called  Geynleyn ; 
Be-yete  he  was  of  syr  Gaweyn 

Be  a  forest  syde. 
Of  stoutere  kny3t  &  profy  table 


With  artoure  of  J?e  Rounde  table, 
Ne  herde  ye  neucr  Rede. 

fcy8  Gynleyn  was  fayre  of  syjt, 
Gentylte  of  body,  of  face  bryjt, 

Alle  bastard  3ef  he  were. 
Hys  modyr  kepte  hyra  yn  clos 
For  douute  of  wykkede  loos, 

As  dou3ty  chyld  &  dere. — F. 


2  cure  sauyoure. — C. 
8  flowre. — C. 


jjrtt  harkenej  of  a  conqueroure 
wys  of  wytte  &  why3t  werrowr. — C. 


416 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


of  Glnglaine, 

bastard  son 
of  Sir 
Gawaine. 


12 


his  name  was  cleped l  Ginglaine  ; 
gotten  he  was  of  Sir  Gawaine 

vnder  a  fforrest  side  ; 
a  better  2  knight  without  ffable,3 
With  Arthur  att  the  round  table, 

yee  heard  neuer  of  read. 


[page  318] 


His  mother 
tried  to 
prevent  him 
seeing  a 
knight, 


because  he 
was  savage. 


Gingglaine  was  ffaire  &  bright,4 
an  hardye  man  and  a  wight,5 

bastard  thoe  hee  were. 

16     6  his  mother  kept  him  with  all  her  might, 
ffor  he  shold  not  of  noe  armed  ~Knight 

haue  a  sight  in  noe  mannere, 
but  he  was  soe  sauage, 
20      &  lightlye  wold  doe  outrage 

to  his  ffellowes  in  ffere.6 
his  mother  kept  him  close 
ffor  dread  7  of  wicked  losse, 
24          as  hend  8  child  and  deere. 


His  mother 
called  him 
Beaufise 
because  he 
was 
handsome. 


One  day 


ffor9  hee  was  soe  ffaire  &  wise,10 
his  mother  cleped  him  beufise,11 

&  none  other  name  ; 
28      &  himselfe  was  not  soe  wise  12 
thai  hee  asked  not  I-wis 

what  hee  hight 13  of  his  dame, 
soe  itt  beffell  vpon  a  day 
32      Gingglaine 14  went  to  play, 


1  called.— C. 

2  stouter^.— C. 

&  profytable.— C. 
of  syjt. — C. 

Gentylle  of  body,  of  face  bry3t, — C. 
—e  From  his  to  ffere  omitted  in  C. — F. 
douute. — C. 
. — C. 


9  [And]  for,  i.e.  because. — P. 

10  And   for<?  loue  of  hys   fayre  vyys. 
— C. 

11  Beau- vise.— P.     bewfis.— C. 

12  was  full<3  nys. — C. 

13  what  he  was  called ;  what  his  Name 
was.     See  St.  11.— P. 

14  To  wode  he.— C. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


417 


wild  deere  to  hunt  ffor  game  ; 
&  as  lie  went  oner  the  Lay, 
he  spyed  a  knight  was  stout  &  gay, 
36          that  soone  he  made  ffull  tame.1 


he  sees  a 
knight, 
kills  him, 


40 


44 


48 


then  he  did  on  2  that  Knights  weede, 
&  himselfe  therm  yeede,3 

into  that  rich  armoure  ; 
&  when  he  had  done  that  deede, 
to  Glasenbury  swithe  4  hee  yeede, 

there  Lay  King  Arthur. 
&  when  he  came  into  the  hall 
amonge  the  Lords  and  Ladyes  all, 

he  grett5  them  with  hoiiore, 
And  said,  "  King  Arthur,  my  Lord  !  G 
suffer  me  to  speake  a  word, 

I  pray  you  par  amoure  7  : 


puts  on  his 

armour, 

goes  to 

Glaston- 

bury,  to 

King 

Arthur, 


and  asks 
Arthur 


8  "  I  am  a  child  vncouthe  ; 
come  I  am  out  of  the  south, 
&  wold  be  made  a  knight. 
52      14  yeere  old  I  am, 

&  of  warre  well  I  cann, 

therfore  grant  me  my  right." 
then  said  Arthur  the  King  strong 
56      to  the  child  that  was  soe  younge,9 


to  knight 
him,  as  he's 
fourteen, 
and  can 
fight. 


Arthur 


The  Cotton  MS.  reads : 

He  fond  a  knyjt,  whare  he  lay, 

In  armes  \>at  were  stout  &  gay, 

I-sclayne  &  made  fulle  tame. — F. 
j*zt  chyld  dede  of.— C. 
And  anon  he  gan  hym  schrede. — C. 
prompte,  Jun. — P. 
did  greet. — P. 

Mais  cil  li  dist :  "  Ains  m'escoutes. 
Artu,  venus  sui  a  ta  cort ; 
Car  n'i  faura,  comment  qu'il  cort, 
Del  primjer  don  que  je  querrai : 


Aurai-le  je,  u  le  j'  faurai  ? 
Donne-le  moi  et  n'i  penser 
Tant  esprendre  ;  ne  1'  dois  veer." 
"  Je  le  vos  dons :  ce  dist  li  rois." 

Le  Bel  Inconnu,  1.  82-9,  p.  4. 

7  par-amour,  or  perhaps  pour  amour ; 
it  is  not  here  a  compound  word,  signi 
fying  Mistress ;  but  is  a  Phrase  equiva 
lent  to  that  [in]  St.  14,  lin.  3.— P. 

8  This  stanza  is  omitted  in  C.     The 
Lambeth  MS.  306  has  it. — F. 

9  A-noon  w/tAoute  any  dwellyng. — G. 


418 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


asks  him  his 
name. 


Ginglaine 
says  he 
doesn't 
know, 


but  his 
mother 
calls  him 
Beaufise. 


Arthur  says 
"  by  God  it's 
odd  you 


don't  know 
your  own 
name! 


I'll  give  you 
one 


that  your 
mother 
never  called 
you, 


and  that  is 
Lybius 
Disconius  " 
(the  fair 
unknown, 
or  handsome 
stranger). 


"  tell  me  what  thou  tight l ; 
for  neuer  sithe  I  was  borne 
sawe  I  neuer  heere  beforne  2 
60         noe  child  soe  ffaire  of  sight." 

the  child  said,  "  by  St.  lame,3 
I  wott  not4  what  is  my  name  ! 

I  am  the  more  vnwise5  ; 
but  when  I  dwelled  att  home,6 
my  mother  in  her  game 

cleped  mee  beaufise." 
then  said7  Arthur  the  JLing, 
&  said,  "  this  is  a  wonderous  thing, 

by  god  &  by  S!  Denise, 
that  thou  wold  be  a  ~K.night, 
&  wott  nott  what  thou  hight, 

&  art  soe  ffaire  and  wise  8  ! 


64 


68 


72 


76 


80 


84 


"  now  I  will  giue  thee  a  name 
heere  amonge  all  you  in-same ; 

for  thou  art  soe  ffaire  and  free, — 
I  say,  by  god  &  by  S!  lame, 
soe  cleped  thee  neuer  thy  dame, 

what  woman  that  euer  shee  bee  ;- 
call  yee  him  all  thius,9 
Lybius  Disconius  10  ; 

ffor  the  loue  of  mee 
looke  yee  call  him  this  name  ; 
both  in  ernest  &  in  game, 

certes,  soe  hight  shall  hee.11  " 


1  J>yn  name  aply3t. — C. 

2  Ne  fond  y  me  be-fore. — C. 

3  Oil  li  respont :  "  Certes  ne  sai, 
Mais  que  tant  dire  vos  en  sai, 
Que  bielfil  m'apieloit  ma  mere ; 
Ne  je  ne  sai  se  je  oi  pere." 

Le  Bel  Inconnu,  1.  115-18,  p.  5. 

4  I  not,— C.  5  nys.— C. 

6  hame,  idem. — P.  7  spake. — F. 

8  fayreofvys. — C.  9  thus. — P. 


10  lybeau  desconus. — C.      The  French 
has,  p.  0 : 

"  Et  por  ce  qu'il  ne  se  conmiist, 
Li  BIAUS  DESCONNEUS  ait  non  ! 
Si  1'nommeront  tot  mi  baron." 
Le  beaux  Desconus,  i.e.  the  fair  un 
known. — P. 

11  j?an  may  ye  wete  a  rowe 
\>Q  fayre  vnknowe 
Sertes  so  hatte  he.— C. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


419 


King  Arthur  anon-riglit 
with  a  sword  ffaire  &  bright,1 

trulye  thai  same  day 
dubbed  thai  Child  a  knight,2 
And  gaue  him  armes  bright 3  ; 

fforsooth  as  I  you  say, 
hee  gaue  to  him  in  thai  ilke 
a  rich  sheeld  all  oner  gilte 

with  a  griffon  soe  gay,4 
&  tooke  him  to  S/r  Gawaine  5 
ffor  to  teach  him  on  the  plaine 

of  euery  princes  6  play.7 


Then  Arthur 

knights 

Lybius. 


[page  31 9]    gives  him 
arms 


and  a  shield, 


and  asks 
Gawaine  to 
teach  him. 


when  hee  was  made  a  knight, 
of  the  boone  8  he  asked  right,9 
&  said,  "  my  Lord  soe  ffree, 
100     in  my  hart  I  wold  be  glad 
the  ffirst  battell  if  I  had 

thai  men  asked  of  thee." 
then  said  Arthur  the  King, 
104     "I  grant  thee  thine  askinge, 

whatt  battell  thai  euer  itt  bee  ; 
but  euer  methinke  thou  art  to  young 
ffor  to  doe  a  good  10  flighting, 
108         by  ought  thai  I  can  see. 


Lybius 
asks  Arthur 


to  let  him 
have  the 
first  fight 
that  turns 
up. 

Arthur 
grants  this, 


but  thinks 
he's  too 
young  to 
fight  well. 


when  he  had  him  thus  told, 
Dukes,  Erles,  and  Barons  bold,11 


1  Made  hym  J?o  a  kny3t. — C. 

2  And  yaf  hym  armes  bry3t. — C. 

'  Hym  gertte  witA  swerde  of  my3t. 
— C. 

4  gryffoun  of  say. — C. 

5  And  hym  be-tok  hys  fadyr  gaweyn. 
— C. 

6  eche  kny3tes. — C. 

7  An  a  seems  to  have  been  blotted  out 


after  the  y  in  the  MS. — F. 

8  Other  boone,   or  another   boone,  or 
One  other  D°.— P. 

9  Anon  a  bone  \>er  he  bad. — C. 

10  thing,     which     follows,    has    been 
marked  out  in  the  MS. — F. 

11  Wz'tA  oute  more  resoun 
Duk,  Erl&baroun.— C. 


420 


LI13IUS   DISCONITJS. 


Then  all 
dine  off  wild 
fowl  and 
venison. 


come  in  hot 
haste  a 
damsel  and 
a  dwarf. 


Her  name  is 
Hellen ; 
she  brings  a 
message 
from  a  lady, 


and  is  clad 
in  green. 


washed  &  went  to  raeate ; 
112     of  wild  ffoule  l  and  venison,2 
as  lords  of  great  renowne, 

inoughe  they  had  to  eate. 
they  had  not  sitten  not  a  stoure, 
116     well  the  space  of  halfe  an  hower, 

talking  att  their  meate,3 
there  came  a  dam  sell  att  thai  tyde,4 
&  a  dwarffe  6  by  her  side, 
120         all  sweating  6  ffor  heate ; 

the  Maidens  name  was  Hellen  ; 
sent  shee  was  vnto  the  King,7 

a  Ladyes  messenger. 
124     the  maiden  was  ware  &  wise, 

&  cold  doe  her  message  att  device,8 

shee  was  not  to  fiere  9  ; 
the  maid  was  ffaire  &  sheene, 
128     shee  was  cladd  all  in  greene  10  ; 

&  ffurred  n  with  Blaundemere  12  ; 


1  take  y?   heddes  of  [  =  off]  all  felde 
byrdes  and  wood  byrdes,  as  fesande,  pe- 
cocke,  partryche,  woodcocke,  and  curlewe, 
for  they  ete  in  theyr  degrees  foule  thynges, 
as  wormes,  todes,  and  other  suche.  Boke 
of  Keruynge  in  Babees  Book  &c.,  E.  E. 
T.    Soc.   p.    279.      See   the   capital   bit 
about  venison  from  Andrew  Borde,    ib. 
p.  210-11.— F. 

2  Of  alle  manere  fusoun. — C. 

8  Ne  hadde  artoure  bote  a  whyle 
f>e  moiwtaunce  of  a  myle 
At  hys  table  y-sete.— C. 

4  a  mayde  Kyde. — C. 

5  dwerk.— C. 

6  be-swette. — C. 

7  Gentylle  bryjt  &  schene. — C. 

8  i.e.   Will,    Pleasure.      See 
Gloss.— P. 

9  \>er  nas  cowtesse  ne  quene 
So  semelyche  on  to  sene 
J>at  my3te  be  here  pere. — C. 

10  Sche  was  clodej?  in  tars 
Row  me  &  nodyng  skars. — C. 

11  pelured.— C. 


12  Blaunchmer,  a  kind  of  fur. 

He  ware  a  C3rrcote  that  was  grene ; 
With  blaunchmer  it  was  furred,  I  wene. 
SyrDegore,  701  in  Halliwell's  Glossary. 

This  word  comes  in  so  oddly  that  I 
could  almost  be  tempted  to  think  that 
Chaucer  in  his  burlesque  Romance  of 
Sir  Thopas  might  allude  to  it  sportively, 
as  thus : 

Sir  Libeaux  and  the*  Blaundemere 
Scil*  the   Blaundemere   Furr  mentioned 
in  his  Romance  &c.     But  after  all  per 
haps  this  construction  is  too  forced. 

N.B.  It  might  be  the  .other  Version 
wAich  Chaucer  alludes  to. 

See  Chaucer's  Rhyme  of  Sir  Thopas, 
where  this  word  seems  to  be  mistaken, 
viz.: 

Men  speken  of  Romaunces  of  Pris, 

Of  Hornechild  and  of  Ipotis 
Of  Bevis  &  Sir  Gie 

Of  Sir  Libeaux  and  Blaindamoure 

But  Sir  Thopas  bereth  the  flowre 
Of  rich  Chivalrie.— P. 


*  (or  his) 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS.  421 

her  saddle  was  ouergiltc, 
&  well  bordered  with  silke,1 
132         &  white  2  was  her  distere.3 

the  dwarfe  was  cladd  with  scarlett  nine,  The  dwarf 

&  ffured  well  with  good  4Ermine  ;  5  scarlet, 

stout  he  was  &  keene  6  ;  is  stout, 

136     amonge  all  christen  kind 

such  another  might  no  man  find  7  ; 

his  cercott 8  was  of  greene  9  ; 

his  haire  was  yellow  as  fflower  on  mold,10         has  ion" 
140    to  his  girdle  hang  n  shining  as  gold,12  ^'llow  r'air' 

the  sooth  to  tell  in  veretye  ; 
all 13  his  shoonc  w/th  gold  were  (light, 
all  as  gay  as  any  14  knight, 
144         there  ssecmed  no  pouertye. 

Teddelyne  was  his  name,15  is  named 

.  n  •  „  i  .        . ,        n  i  c  Teddelyne, 

wide  sprang  01  him  the  tame,10 

East,  west,  North  &  south ; 
148     much  he  cold  of  game  &  glee, 


1  Here  sadelle  &  here  brydelle  yn  fore  Led  Horse.     Vid.  Gloss. — P. 

Fulle  of  dyamandya  wore. — C.  4  One  stroke  too  few  in  this  word  in 

The  author  of  the  French  Romance  gives  the  MS. — F. 

a  fuller  description  of  Maid  Hellen,  or  5  }:e  dwerke  was  clodo}?  vn  yndo 

Helie  as  he  calls  her.     Doubtless  it   is  13c-fore  &  ek  be-hynde.— C. 


his  own  love,  for  whom  he  composed  the 
Romance,  whom  he  sketches. 

Gente  de  cors  et  de  vis  biele  : 

D'un  samit  estoit  bien  vcstue  ; 

Si  biele  riens  ne  fu  veiie. 

Face  ot  blance  com  flors  d'este, 


pert.— C. 
fimd  in  the  MS.— F. 
Surcout — A  gown  &  hood  the  same, 
upper  coat,  Ch.  Gloss. — P. 
was  ouert. — C. 
as  ony  wax.— C.    Not  in  the  French. 


Come  rose  ot  vis  colore,  — F. 

Le  iouls  ot  vairs,  bouce  riant,  "  hung.— P.         12  henge  |>e  plex.— C. 

Les  mains  blances,  cors  avenant ;  1S  als,  also. — P. 

Bel  cief  avoit,  si  estoit  blonde  :  u  And  kopej>  as  a. — C. 

N'ot  plus  biel  cief  feme  del  monde  !  15  The  French  Romance  doesn't  name 

En  son  cief  ot  un  cercle  d'or;  him  till  he  and  Hellen  leave  the  court, 

Ses  perles  valent  un  tr£sur  and   it  calls   him    Tidogolains,   1.  256, 

Sor  un  palefroi  cevauc.oit.  (p.  6.)— F.  p.  10.— F.     Teaudelayn.— C. 

2  Melk.— C.  16  MS.  same.— F.      fame.— P.      welle 

8  apud  Chauc.  Destrcr,  a  War-horse,  or  swydo  sprong  hys  name. — C. 


422 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


is  a  good 
fiddler, 


minstrel 
and  jester; 


a,  jolly  man 
with  ladies. 


152 


156 


ffiddle,  crowde,1  and  sowtrye, 
lie  was  a  merry  man  of  mouth  2  ; 

harpe,  ribble  3  &  sautrye, 

lie  cold  much  of  Minstrelsye, 
he  was  a  good  lestoure, 

there  was  none  such  in  noe  country ; 

a  lolly  man  fforsooth  was  hee 
w^th  Ladyes  in  their  bower. 


Hellen  gives 
Arthur  her 
message : 


160 


then  he  bade  maid  Hellen 
ffor  to  tell  her  tale  by-deene, 

&  kneele  before  the  King, 
the  maid  kneeled  in  the  hall 
among  the  Lords  &  Ladyes  all, 

&  said,  "  my  Lord  !  without  Leasing 


her  lady,  of 
Sinadone, 
is  in  distress, 


and  begs  for 
a  knight  to 
fight  for  her. 


Lybius  at 
once 


"  There  is  a  strong  case  toward  ; 
]  64     there  [is]  none  such,  nor  soe  hard, 
nor  of  soe  much  dolour. 

my 4  Lady  of  Sinadone 

is  brought  to  strong  prison, 
168         thai  was  of  great  valoure  ; 

shee  prayes  you  of 5  a  Knight 

ffor  to  win  her  in  flight 

wz'th  ioy  &  much  honor."  6 
172     vp  rose  thai  younge  Knight, 


[page  320] 


1  A  kind  of  fiddle.— F. 

2  Myche  he  cou}?e  of  game, 
wz'tA  sytole  sautyre  yn  same 
harpe  fydele  &  croupe. — C. 

8  There  is  none  of  this  in  the  French. 
— F.  Al  can  they  play  on  gitterne  and 
rubible.  Cook's  Tale.  The  giterne  was 
a  small  guitar,  and  the  ribible  a  small 
fiddle  played  by  a  bow,  and  not  by  hand 
as  the  giterne  was.  Jerome  of  Moravia 
says  of  the  ribble,  Kibible,  or  Kibibe : 
— "  Est  autem  rubeba  musicum  instru- 
mentum  habens  solum  duas  cordas  sono 
distantes  a  se  perdiapente,  quod  quidcm, 


sicut  et  viella,  cum  arcu  tangitur." — W.  C. 
ribble,  a  fiddle  or  guittern,  Gl.  Ch.— P. 

4  MS.  ny.— F. 

5  of  you. — P. 

6  The  French  adds  some  lines  about 
the  kiss,  on  which  so  much  turns  at  the 
end: 

"  Certes  moult  auroit  grant  honnor 

Icil  qui  de  mal  1'estordroit, 

Et  qui  le  FIER  BAISIER  feroit. 

Mais  pros  que  il  li  a  mestier ! 

Onques  n'ot  tel  a  chevalier. 

Ja  mauvais  horn  le  don  ne  quiere ; 

Tot  en  giroit  en  vers  en  biere ! "  (p.  8.) 


176 


180 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

in  his  hart  he  was  ffull  light, 
&  said,  "  my  Lord  Arthur, 

"  my  couenant  is  to  haue  that  fight 
ffor  to  winne  that  Lady  bright, 

if  thou  be  true  of  word." 
the  King  said  without  othe, 
"  thereof  thou  saiest  soothe, 

thereto  I  beare  record ; 


423 


claims  the 
fight. 


Arthur 
assigns  it 
to  him. 


"god  thee  glue  strenght  &  might 
ffor  to  wiime  that  Ladye  bright 

with  sheeld  &  with  speare  dint !  " 
184     then  began  the  maid  to  say, 
&  said,  "  alas  that  ilke  day 
that  I  was  hither  sent  !  " 
shee  said,  "this  word  will  spring  wyde  ; 
188     S/r  King,  lost  is  all  thy  pride, 
and  all  thy  deeds  is  shent,1 
when  thou  sendest  a  child 
that  is  wittlesse  &  wild, 
192         to  deale  dough tilie  w^'th  dint ! 
thou  hast  Knights  of  mickle  maine, 
Sz'r  Perciuall  &  Sir  Gawaine, 

ffull  wise  in  Turnament." 
196     tho  2  the  dwarffe  with  great  error3 
went  vnto  King  Arthur, 
&  said,  "  Sir  !  verament 


Maid  Ilellcn 
grumbles, 


and  says  it's 
a  disgrace  to 
Arthur 


to  send  a 
witless  child 
to  fight, 


when  he  has 
knights  like 
Gawaiue  &c. 


Dwarf 
Teddelyne 


"  this  child  to  be  a  warryour, 

200     or  to  doe  such  a  Labor, 

itt  is  not  worth  one  ffarthing  ! 
or  4  hee  that  Ladye  may  see, 
bee  shall  haue  battells  5  or  three 

204         trulye  Without  any  Leasinge  ; 


1  are  shent,  i.  e.  disgraced, 

2  then.— P. 


P. 


8  Errour  course,  running. 
4  i.  e.  before.— P. 


Fays  the 
child  isn't 

worth  a 
farthing. 
He'll  have  to 
fight  five 
battles 
before 
reaching 
Sinadone ; 

Halliwell.— R 


424 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


the  first  at 
the  Bridge 
of  Perils. 


Lybius  says 
he's  not 
afraid; 


he  can 
fight, 


and  will 
never  give 
in  :  such  is 
Arthur's 
law. 


Hellen 

sneers  at 
Lybius, 


and  Tedde- 
lyne  tells 
him 


to  go  and 
suck  his 
mammy. 


Arthur  gays 
"  By  God 
you  shall 
have  nobody 
else." 


"  att  the  bridge  of  perill 

beside  the  aduenturous  chappell, 

there  is  the  ffirst  begining." 
208     S^r  Lybius  anon  answered 
&  said,  "  I'  was  neuer  affeard 

ffor  no  mans  threatninge  ! 

•  "  somewhat  hane  I  lerd  1 
212     ffor  to  play  w^th  a  swerd 

there  men  hath  beene  slowe.2 
the  man  thai  ffleethe  ffor  a  threat 
other  3  by  way  or  by  streete, 
216         I  wold  he  were  to-draw. 
I  will  the  battell  vndertake  ; 
I  ne  will  nener  fforsake, 

ffor  such  is  Arthurs  Lawe." 
220     the  made  4  answered  alsoe  snell,5 
&  said,  "  thai  beseemeth  thee  well ! 
who-soe  looketh  on  thee  may  know 

"  thou  ne  durst  for  thy  berde 
224     abyid  6  the  wind  of  my  7  swerde, 

by  ought  thai  I  can  see  !  " 
then  said  thai  dwarffe  in  thai  stond, 
"  dead  men  thai  lyen  on  the  ground, 
228         of  thee  affrayd  may  bee  ; 
but  betweene  ernest  &  game, 
I  counsell  thee  goe  souke  8  thy  dame, 

&  winne  there  the  degree/' 
232     the  Km<7  answered  anon-right, 

and  said,  "  thou  gettest  noe  other  ~Knighi, 
by  god  thai  s'tteth  in  Trinytye  ! 


1  lered,  i.e.  learned,  see  Ch.  G-l. — P. 

2  Where — have  been  slaw,  Qu. — P. 

3  i.  e.  either.     So  they  still  speak  in 
Shropshire. — P.      Or  is  the  contraction 
of  other.—?. 

«  The  Maid.— P. 

5  snel,    i.e.    presently,    immediately. 


see  Gl.  ad  Ch. — P.     Al  soe  is  alsoe  in 
MS.— F. 

6  abyde.— P. 

7  perhaps  any :  or  perhaps  she  taunts 
him,  as  not  a  Match  for  a  Woman. — P. 

8  souke,  i.e.  suck,  Chauc. — P. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


425 


If  thou  thinke  he  bee  not  wight, 
236     Goe  l  and  gett  thee  another  Knight     [page  321] 

thai  is  of  more  power." 
the  maid  ffor  ire  still  did  thinke,2 
shee  wold  neither  eate  nor  d[r]inke 
240         ffor  all  thai  there  were  ; 
shee  sate  still,  without  ffable, 
till  they  had  vncouered  the  table, 

she  and  the  dwarffe  in  ffere. 
244     King  Arthur  in  thai  stond 

comanded  of  the  table  round, 
4  knights  in  ffere, 

of  the  best  thai  might  be  found 
243     in  armes  hole  3  &  sound, 

to  arme  thai  child  ffull  right ; 
&  said  "  through  the  might  o  Christ 
thai  in  fflome  4  Jordan  was  baptiste, 
252         he  shold  doe  thai  he  hight,5 
&  become  a  Champyon 
to  the  Lady  of  Sinadon, 

&  ffell  her  ffoemen  in  ffight." 
256     to  arme  him  they  were  ffaine,6 
Sir  Perciuall  &  S*'r  Gawaine, 
&  arrayed  him  like  a  knight ; 

the  3?  was  S*r  Agrauaine,7 
260     &  the  4^  was  Sir  Ewaine,8 


Hellen  gets 
angry, 
won't  eat  or 
drink 
anything, 


nor  -will  the 
dwarf. 

Arthur 
orders 


his  four  best 
knights  to 


arm  Lybius, 


as  he'll  do 

what  he 

says, 

and  be  the 

Lady  of 

Binadone'a 

champion. 


Lybius  is 
armed  by 
Percival, 
Gawaine, 


Agravaine, 
and  Ewaine ; 


1  The  MS.  curl  to  the  G  is  like  w. — F. 

2  The  French    Romance    makes   her 
leave  the  court  at  once  in  disgust,  and 
Lybius  ride  after  her  and  overtake  her, 
p.  10,  11.— F. 

whole. — P. 

i.e.  River;  Ital.  flume. — P. 

i.e.  promised,  engaged. — P. 

glad.— P. 

See  the  note  on  him  in  vol.  i.  p.  145, 
— F. 

8  Ewaine  or  Uwayn  was  the  son  of 
Arthur's  sister,  Morgan  le  Fay,  and  had 

VOL.  II.  F  F 


a  bad  opinion  of  his  mother:  " '  A,'  sayd 
syr  Uwayn,  '  men  saith  that  Merlyn  was 
begoten  of  a  deuylle,  but  I  may  saye  an 
erthely  deuylle  bare  me.' "  This  was 
when  he  stopt  "  my  lady  "  his  "  moder  " 
from  killing  "  the  kynge  "  Vryens,  his 
"  fader,  slepynge  in  his  bed."  Caxton's 
Malcor,  i.  p.  107.  The  Cotton  MS.  has  : 
The  |>yr)>3  was  syr  Eweyn,  [Oweyn, 

below] 

The  ferjjde  was  syr  agrrafrayn, 
So  sey>  >»e  Frenjsche  tale. — F. 


426 


LIBIUS   DISCONIDS. 


is  clad  in 
silk, 


264 


them  right  ffor  to  behold, 
they  cast  on  him  right  good  silke, 
a  sercote  as  white  as  any 1  milke 

thai  was  worth  20.  of  golde  ; 


and  has  a 
hauberk. 


Gawaine 


gives  him  a 
shield 
and  helm. 


Percival  puts 
on  his 
crown  ; 
Agravaine 
brings  him 
a  spear, 


and  Ewaine 


Lybius 
mounts, 


268 


272 


276 


280 


alsoe  an  hawberke  ffaire  &  bright, 
which  was  ffull  richelye  dight 

with  nayles  good  and  mne. 
Sir  Grawaine,  his  owne  ffather, 
hange  about  his  necke  there 

a  sheeld  with  a  griffon,2 
&  a  helme  thai  was  ffull  rich, 
in  all  the  Land  there  was  none  such. 

Sir  Perciuall  sett  on  his  crowne, 
Sir  Agrauaine  brought  him  a  speare 
thai,  was  good  euery  where 

&  of  a  ffell  ffashion. 
Sir  Ewaine  brought  him  a  steade 
that  was  good  in  euery  neede, 

&  as  ffeirce  as  any  Lyon.3 
Sir  Lybyus  on  his  steede  gan  springe, 
&  rode  fforth  vnto  the  King, 

&  said,  "  Lord  of  renowne ! 


Arthur's 


Arthur 
gives  it  him, 


and  hopes 
God 


284 


288 


"giue  me  yo^r  blessinge 
without  any  Letting  ! 

my  will  is  fforth  me  to  wend." 
the  ~K.ing  his  hand  vpp  did  lifft, 
&  his  blessing  to  him  gaue  right 

as  a  ~Knight  curteour4  &  hende, 
&  said,  "  god  that  is  of  might, 
&  his  mother  Marry  bright, 


1  One  stroke  too  few  in  the  MS.— F. 

2  griffyne,  qu. — P. 

8  The  French   Eomance   only  makes 
Gawain   order   Lybius's   armour   to  be 


brought,  and  Gawain  give  him  a  squire 
"Robers:  moult  esteit  sages  et  apers," 
p.  11.— F. 

4  ?for  eurteous. — F. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


427 


thai  is  fflowre  of  all  women, 
292     glue  thee  gracce  fFor  to  gone 

ffor  to  gett  the  ouerhand  of  thy  fone, 
&  speed  thee  in  thy  iourney !  Amen  !  " 


will  grant 
him  grace  to 
conquer  his 
foes. 


296 


*  partex 


300 


304 


[The  Second  Part.]' 

Sir  Lybius  now  rideth  on  his  way, 
&  soe  did  thai  ffaire  may, 

the  dwarffe  alsoe  rode  them  beside, 
till  itt  beffell  vpon  the  3?  day 
vpon  the  "Knight  all  the  way 


ffast  they  gan  to  chide, 
&  said,  "Lorell l  and  Caitiue  !. 
tho  thow  were  such  ffiue, 

Lost  is  all  thy  pride  ! 
This  way  keepeth  a  Knight 
that  with  euery  man  will  night, 
his  name  springeth  wyde  ; 


Lybius 
starts  with 
Hcllen  and 
the  dwarf. 


They  begin 


abusing  him, 


and  say  that 
a  knight 
near, 


"his  name  is  William  de  la  Braunche,' 
308     his  warres  may  noe  man  staimche,3 
he  is  a  warryonr  of  great  pride  ; 
Both  through  hart  &  hanch 
swithe4  hee  will  thee  Launche, 
312         all  that  to  him  rides."  5 
then  said  Sir  Lybius, 
"  I  will  not  Lett  this  nor  thus 

to  play  with  him  a  ffitt ! 
316     ffor  any  thing  that  may  betide, 
I  will  against  him  ryde 

to  looke  if  that  he  can  sitt !  " 


[page  322] 


Sir  William 

dela 

Braunche, 


will  soon 
spear  him 
through. 

Lybius  says 


whatever 
happens  he'll 
ride  at  him. 


1  Lewd  base   fellow,  Homo  perditus. 
Lye.— P. 

2  Wylleam  Celebronche  (leaf  44  b.) 
here,  and  wylleam  selebraunche,  1.  342, 


(leaf  45,  col.  1)  Cotton  MS.— F. 
8  stop,  stay,  resist. — P. 
4  soon. — P. 

8  and  all  that — ride,  qu. — P. 
FF  2 


428 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


Near  the 
Adventurous 
Chapel 
they  see  a 
knight 
on  the 
Bridge  of 
Peril, 


well  armed. 


320 


324 


328 


the  rode  on  then  all  3  : 
vpon  a  ffaire  Causye. 

beside  the  aduenturous  chappell 
a  knight  anon  they  can  see 
with  armes  bright  of  blee, 

vpon  the  bridge  2  of  perrill. 
he  bare  a  sheeld'  all  of  greene 
w^th  3  Lyons  of  gold  sheene, 

right  rich  and  precyous. 
well  armed  3  was  thai  ~K.nighi 
as  he  shold  goe  to  ffight, 

as  itt  was  his  vse.4 


The  knight 
tells  Lybius 


he  must 
fight  or 
leave  his 


there. 
Lybius 
begs  leave  to 


Sir  William 
refuses,  and 
says 


he  must 
fight  him. 


when  he  saw  S^r  Lybius  with  sight, 
332     anon  he  went  to  him  arright, 

&  said  to  him  there, 
"  who  passeth  here  by  day  or  night, 
certer  5  w/th  me  must  ffight, 
•336         or  leaue  his  harnesse  here." 
then  answered  S^r  Libyus 
&  said,  "  ffor  the  loue  of  lesus 

lett  vs  passe  now  here  ! 
340     wee  be  ffarr  ffroe  our  ffreind, 
&  haue  ffarr  ffor  to  wend, 
T  and  this  mayden  in  fere.6  " 

Sir  "Willmm  answered  thoe 
344     &  said,  "  thou  shalt  not  scape  soe  ! 

soe  god  giue  me  good  rest, 
thow  &  I  will,  or  wee  goe, 
deale  stroakes  betweene  vs  tow 
348         a  litle  here  by  west." 


1  Kyght  to  chapell  Auntours. — Lam 
beth  MS.     Be  a  castelle  aunterous. — C. 

2  Fr.   le   Crue    Perilleus.—F.      Poynt 
perylous. — Lambeth  MS.    vale  perylous. 
— C. 

3  arned  in  the  MS.— F. 


4  The  French  adds,  p.  13, 1.  330-3  : 
Maint  chevalier  1'ont  trouv6  dure, 
Que  il  avoit  ocis  al  gue ; 

Moult  etoit  plains  de  cruaute, 
BLIOBLIERIS  avoit  non. 

5  certes.— P.  6  together.— P. 


352 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

Sir  Libyus  sayd,  "  now  I  see 
thai  itt  will  none  other  bee ; 

goe  fforth  and  doe  thy  best ; 
take  thy  course  with  thy  shafft 
if  thou  can  l  well  thy  crafft, 

ffor  I  ame  here  all  prest.2" 


429 

Lybius  says 


Charge 
away ! 


then  noe  longer  they  wold  abyde, 
356     but  the  one  to  the  other  gan  ryde 

With  greatt  randaun.3 
Sir  Libyus  there  in  4  that  tyde 
smote  Sir  will /am  on  his  side 
360         with  a  speare  ffelon  5  ; 

but  Sir  will /am  sate  soe  ffast 
thai  his  stirropps  all  to-brast, 
he  leaned  on  his  arsowiie  ; 
364     Sir  Lybius  made  him  stoupe, 

he  smote  him  over  the  horse  croupe 
in  the  ffeeld  a-downe  ; 


They 
charge ; 


Lybius  hits 
Sir  William 
on  the  side, 


drives  him 
over  his 
saddle-back, 


and  grounds 
him. 


his  horsse  ran  ffrom  him  away. 
368     Sir  will/am  not  long  Lay, 
but  start  anon  vpright, 
and  said,  "  Sir,  by  my- in  ffay, 
neuer  beffore  this  day 
372         I  ffound  none  soe  wight ! 
now  is  my  horsse  gone  away  ! 
flight  on  [foot],6  I  thee  pray, 

as  thou  art  a  Knighi  worthye." 
376     then  sayd  Sir  Lybius, 

"  by  the  leaue  of  Sweete  lesus 
therto  ffull  ready  I  am.7  " 


Sir  William 
starts  up 


and  asks 
Lybius  to 
fight  on  foot. 


1  con.— P. 

3  i.  e.  ready. — P. 

3  Ap?  G-.  Doug,  randoun.     The  swift 
Course,  Flight  or  Motion  of  any  thing. 
Fr.  randon,  idem.  Gl.  G.D.— P. 

4  MS.  therein.— F. 


5  fel,  felon,  feloun,  wicked,  also  cruel, 
fierce.    Gl.  Chauc.— P. 

6  on    [foot]    I   &c. — P.    a    fote.— C. 
on  fote. — Lam. 

7  am  I.— P. 


430 


LIBIUS   DISC03IUS. 


They  do  so 


till  the  fire 
flies  from 
their  helms. 

Sir  William 


cuts  off  a 
corner  of 
Lybius's 
shield. 


Lybins 


cuts  off  the 
coif  and 
crest  of  Sir 
William's 
helm, 


and  his 
beard. 


Sir  William's 
sword  breaks 
in  two  ; 


he  prays  for 
his  life. 


then  together  they  went  as  tyte,1 
380     &  with  their  swords  they  gan  smite  ; 

they  ffought  wonderons  Longe ; 
stroakes  together  they  lett  fflinge 
that  they  ffyer  out  gan  springe 
384         ffrom  of  their  helmes  strong, 
but  S^'r  willmm  de  2  la  braunche 
to  Sir  Lybius  gan  he  launche, 

&  smote  on  his  sheild  soe  ffast 
388     that  one  cantell 3  ffell  to  the  ground  ; 
&  S^r  Lybius  att  that  sonde  4 
in  his  hart  was  agast. 

then  Sir  Lybius  with  all  his  might 

392     defended  him  anon-right, 

was  5  warryour  wight  &  slye  ; 
coyfe  6  &  crest  downe  right, 
he  made  to  my  w^'th  great  might, 

396         of  S^'r  Willmms  helme  on  hye  ; 

6  w^'th  the  point  of  his  sword 
he  cut  of  S^r  willmms  berd, 

and  touched  him  ffull  nye. 
400     S^r  Willmm  smote  S*r  Lybius  thoe 

7  as  that  his  sword  brast  in  tow 

8  that  many  men  might  see  with  eye. 

then  Sir  Willmm  began  to  crye 
404     &  sayd,  "  ffor  the  Loue  of  Marrye, 
on  Hue  let  mee  weelde  ! 

itt  were  great  villanye 

ffor  to  make  a  TLnight  dye 
408         weponlesse  in  the  feeld." 


[page  323] 


1  quickly. — F. 

2  MS.  do.— F. 

3  cautle,  a  Piece,  a  part.  Gl.  Ch.— P. 

4  Perhaps    stounde,     time,    moment, 
space. — P.     Sonde  is  message. — F. 

5  as,  qu. — P.     as. — C.  and  L. 

6  coif-de-fer,  the  hood  of  mail  worn  by 
knights  in  the  twelfth  century.     Fair- 


holt.  The  second  seal  of  Henry  I.  re 
presents  him  without  a  helmet,  the  cowl 
of  mail  being  drawn  over  a  steel  cap 
called  a  coif-de-fer  in  contradistinction 
to  the  chapelle-de-fer  worn  over  the  mail. 
Planche,  i.  94.— F. 

7  That  his,  &c.— P. 

8  As  men,  &c. — P. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


431 


412 


then  spake  Sir  Lybius 

&  sayd,  "  by  the  leaue  of  lesus  ! 

of  liffe  gettest  thou  no  space  l 
but  if  thou  wilt  sweare  anon, 
or  thou  out  of  the  ffelld  gone, 

here  before  my  fface, 


Lybius 
grants  it 
him 


on  condition 


"  &  on  knees  kneele  downe, 
41G     &  swere  by  my  sword  browne 

that  thou  shalt  to  Arthur  wend, 
&  say,  '  Lord  of  great  renowne  ! 
I  am  in  battell  ouerthrowne  ; 
420         a  knight  me  hither  doth  send 
that  men  cleped  thus, 
SIT  Lybius  Disconius, 

vnknowen  knight  and  hend.'  " 
424     Sir  william  mett 2  him  on  his  knee  ; 
&  the  othe  there  made  hee, 
&  fforward  gan  he  wend. 


that  he 
swears  to  go 
to  Arthur 


and  say  that 
Lybius  sends 
him. 


Sir  William 
swears, 


thus  departed  all  the  rout. 
428     Sir  wilKam  to  Arthurs  court 

he  tooke  the  ready  way  ; 3 
a  sorry  case  there  gan  fFall : 
3  knights  4  proude  and  tall 
432         Sir  will  mm  mett  that  day; 
the  3  Knights  all  in  ffere 
where  his  ernes  5  sonnes  deere, 
stout  they  were  and  gay. 


and  starts 
for  Arthur's 
court. 


His  three 
cousins 
meet  him, 


1  For  the  next  stanza  and  a  half,  the 
French  has,  p.  18 : 

"  Ens  a  la  cort  Artu  le  roi, 
A  lui  en  ires  de  par  moi." 

2  ?  Sett.— F. 

8  The  French  Romance  sends  him  home 
•wounded,  puts  him  to  bed,  and  there  he 
sees  the  three  knights. — F. 

4  The  French  makes   them  only  his 


"  compaignons,"  and  him  their  "  signer." 

Their  names  are : 

Elms  li  blans,  sires  des  Aies, 
Et  li  bons  chevaliers  de  Graies 
Et  Willaume  de  Salebrant. 
5  erne,  Uncle.      See  Jun.   eame.     See 

Gl.   ad   Chauc.    &c.— P.     A.-Sax.   earn, 

uncle. — F. 


432 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


and  ask  him 
who  has 
wounded 
him. 


"  Sir  Lybius 
Disconius, 


and  he  has 
made  me 
swear 


not  to  stop 
till  I  get  to 
Arthur's 
court, 


and  never  to 
bear  arms 
against 
him." 


His  cousins 
promise  to . 
avenge  him: 


Lybius  isn't 
worth  a  flea; 


436     when  they  saw  BIT  willmm  bleed, 
&  alway  hanged  downe  his  head, 
they  rode  to  him  w^th  great  array, 

&  said,  "  Cozen  will ! 
440     who  hath  done  to  yon  this  shame  ? 
&  why  bleedest  thon  soe  long  ?  " 
hee  said,  "  Sirs,  by  St.  lame ! 
one  that  is  not  to  blame  ; 
444         a  stout  JLnight  &  a  stronge — 
S^'r  Lybius  disconius  hee  hight — 
to  ffell  his  enemyes  in  flight ; 

he  is  not  ffarr  to  Learne  ; 
448     a  dwarfe  rydeth  w^'th  him  in  fere 
as  he  was  his  Squier  ; 

they  ride  away  ffull  yarne.1 

"  but  one  thing  greeueth  me  sore, 
452     that  he  hath  made  me  sweare 

on  his  sord  soe  bright, 
that  I  shold  neuer  more, 
till  I  come  to  ~King  Arthur, 
456         Stint  by  day  nor  night ; 

and  alsoe  to  him  I  ame  yeelde 
as  ouercome  into  the  ffeelde 

by  power  of  his  might ; 
460     nor  against  him  flbr  to  beare 
neither  she  eld  nor  speare ; 
thus  I  haue  him  hight." 

then  said  the  "Knights  3  : 
464     "  well  auenged  shalt  thou  bee 
certes  without  ffayle ! 

ffor  hee  one  against  vs  3, 

hee  is  not  worthe  a  fflee 
468         ffor  to  hold  battell 2 ! 


[page  324] 


yerne,  inter  al.  nimble,  Ch.  Gl. — P. 


battayle.— P. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS.  433 

goe  fforth  &  keepe  thine  othe 
though  thou  be  neuer  soe  wroth.; 

wee  will  him  assayle. 

472     or  he  this  fforrest  passe,  they'll  soon 

wee  will  his  armour  vnlace,  annour!"8 

tho  itt  were  double  maile." 

theroff  wist  nothing  that  wight 

476     Sir  Lybius,  that  gentle  "Knight,  Lybius 

but  rode  a  well  good  pace ;  rides  on 

he  &  that  maiden  bright  with  Heiien. 

made  together  that  night 
480         game  &  great  solace. 

shee  cryed  him  mercye  She  begs  his 

„,,,..  .          ,  .  pardon  for 

flor  shee  had  spoken  him  villanye  ;  having 

abused  him. 

shee  prayed  him  to  fforgiue  her  that  tyde  ; 
484     the  dwarffe  was  their  squier, 
&  serued  them  both  in  ffere 
off  all  that  they  had  need. 

on  the  morrow  when  itt  was  day,  Next  day 

488     fibrthe  the  rode  on  their  way 

towards  Sinadowne. 
then  they  say  l  in  their  way 

3  Knights  stout  and  gay  the  three 

492         came  ryding  ffrom  Caerleon ;  StLybms, 

to  him  they  sayd  anon-right,2  and  call  on 

"  Traitor,  turne  againe  and  flight ! 

thou  shalt  lose  thy  renowne  ! 
496     &  that  maide  ffaire  &  bright, 
wee  will  her  lead  att  night 
herby  vnto  a  towne." 


1  saw. — P.     ?  Perhaps  the  MS.  has  a       three  knights  (p.  34)  after  that  with  the 
w  made  over  the  y,  or  an  e  after  it. — F.         two  giants  (p.  23). — F. 

2  The  French  puts  the  fight  with  these 


434 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS 


Lybius  is 
ready, 


charges 
the  eldest, 
Sir  Baner, 


and  breaks 
his  thigh  in 
two. 


Dwarf 
Teddelyne 
rides  Baner's 
horse 


to  Hellen, 


and  she  says 
Lybius  is  a 
good 
champion. 


Sir  Lybius  to  them  gan  crye, 
500     "  ffor  to  flight  I  am  all  readye 

against  you  all  in-same.1  " 
a  2  prince  proude  of  pride, 
he  rode  against  them  thai  tyde 
504         w^'th  mirth  sport  and  game, 
the  Eldest  brother  then  beere 
to  So-  Lybius  with  a  Spere, 
Sir  Baner  was  his  name.3 
508     Sir  Lybius  rode  att  him  anon 
&  brake  in  tow  his  thigh  bone, 
&  lett  him  Lye  there  lame.4 

the  ~K.nighi  mercy  gan  crye 
512     when  Sir  Lybius  certainely 
had  smitten  him  downe. 
the  dwarffe  thai  hight  Teodline 
tooke  his  horsse  by  the  raine, 
516         he  lept  into  the  arsoone  5 ; 
he  rode  anon  with  that 
vnto  the  mayd  where  shee  sate 

soe  ffayre  of  ffashyon. 
520     then  laughed  thai  Maiden  bright, 

&  said,  "  fforssooth  this  young  Knight 
is  a  ffull  good  Champyon !  " 


1  i.  e.  all  together ;  it  seems  a  contrac 
tion  of  the  Fr.  ensemble.     See  Gr.D.  Gl. 
alsame,  sub.  verb,  same. — P. 

2  As,  q. — Pencil  note. 

8  Willaumes  -vint  a  lui  premiers,  1. 
1052,  p.  38.  The  French  Eom.  remarks 
on  the  knights  attacking  singly,  in  the 
good  old  times,  as  contrasted  with  the 
cowardice  of  the  then  modern  ones : 

Et  a  eel  tens,  costume  estoit 
Que  quant  i  horn  se  combatoit, 
N'avait  garde  que  de  celui 
Qui  faisoit  la  bataille  a  lui. 
Or  va  li  tens  en  febloiant 
Et  cis  usages  decaans, 
Que  XX  et  V  en  prendent  un! 
Cis  afuires  est  si  commun 


Que  tuit  le  tienent  desormes  ; 
La  force  fait  le  plus  adies, 
Tos  est  mues  en  autre  guise, 
Mais  dont  estoit  fois  et  francise, 
Pities,  proesse  et  cortoisie, 
Et  largesse  sans  vilonnie. 
Or  fait  cascuns  tot  son  pooir, 
Tos  entendent  an  decevoir.  (p.  38.) 

4  The    French    makes    Lybius    kill 
Willaume  (or  Sir  Baner) : 

Mort  le  trebuce  del  ceval. 

II  ne  li  fera  huimais  mal !  (p.  40.) 
Then   Helin  de  Graies  attacks  Lybius, 
and  gets  his  right  arm  broken. — F. 

5  Fr.  Arcon,  a  saddle  bow,  Per  Meton. 
Saddle.— P. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


435 


1  the  2*  brother,  he  beheld 
524     how  is  brother  lay  in  the  ffeild 
&  had  lost  strenght  &  might ; 
he  smote  Sir  Lybius  in  that  tyde 
on  the  sheeld  with  much  pride, 
528         with  his  speare  ffull  right. 

Sir  Lybius  away  gan  beare  [page  325] 

with  his  good  speare 

the  helme  of  that  knight. 
532     the  youngest  brother  2  then  gan  ride, 
&  hitt  Sir  Lybius  in  that  tyde 
as  a  man  of  much  might, 


The  second 
cousin 


charges 
Lybius. 


Lybius 

unhelms 

him. 


The  third 
cousin 


&  said  to  him  then  anon, 
533     "  Sir,  thou  art  by  St.  lohn 

a  ffell  Champyowne  ; 
by  god  that  sitteth  in  trinitye, 
flight  I  will  with  thee, 
540         I  hope  to  beare  thee  downe."  l 
as  warryour  out  of  witt, 
on  Sir  Lybius  then  hee  hitt 

with  a  ffell  fFauchyon  ; 
544     soe  stifflye  his  stroakes  hee  sett, 
that  through  helme  3  &  basenett 4 
he  carued  Sir  Lybius  crowne. 


says  he 
should 


like  to  fight 
Lybius, 


and  cuts 
through 


his  helm  and 
bascinet 
into  his 
head. 


Sir  Lybius  was  served  in  that  stead 
548     when  hee  ffelled  5  on  his  head 

that  the  sword  had  drawen  blood ; 


Lybius 


1  l  >e  myddelle  brojw  com  jerne 
Vp-on  a  stede  sterne 

Egre  as  lyoun. 

Hym  >o3te  hys  body  wolde  berne 
But  he  my3t  al  so  3erne 

Felle  lybeaus  a-doun. — C. 

2  Sir  Gramadone,   the    French  calls 
him,  1.  1122,  p.  40.— F. 

3  helmet  or  head-piece,  Fr.  D?   Galea. 
—P. 


4  Bascinet,    a    light    helmet,   shaped 
like  a  skull-cap,  worn  with  or  without  a 
moveable  front.     Fairholt. — F. 

5  felt.— P.     The  Lambeth  MS.  reads  : 

Tho  wax  Lybeous  a-greued 
When  he  felt  on  his  hed. 
The  Cotton  has : 

Tho  was  ly-beaus  agreede 
Whan  he  felde  on  hedde.— F. 


436 


LIBIUS   DISCON1US. 


waves  his 
sword, 


says  two 
against  one 
isn't  fair 
(the  second 
cousin 
having 
joined  in 
again?), 


about  his  head  the  sword  he  waned, — 
all  thai  hee  hitt,  fforsoothe  hee  cleeued, 
552         as  warryour  wight  and  good  ; — 
SIT  Lybius  said  swithe  thoe, 
"  one  to  flight  against  2 

is  nothing  good." 
556     flast  they  hewed  then  on  him 
w^th  stroakes  great  and  grim ; 
against  *  them  he  stifflye  stood, 


and  cuts  off 
the  second 
cousin's 
right  arm. 


The  third 
cousin 


yields  to 
Lybius, 


and  cries 
for  mercy. 


2  &  through  gods  grace 
560     he  smote  the  eldest  in  that  place 

vpon  the  right  arme  thoe ; 
hee  hitt  him  soe  in  that  place, — 
to  see  itt  was  a  wonderous  case, — 
564         his  right  arme  ffell  him  ffroe.2 
the  youngest  saw  that  sight, 
&  thought  hee  had  noe  might 

to  flight  against  his  floe  ; 
568     to  Sir  Lybius  hee  did  vp-yeeld 
his  good  Speare  &  sheeld  ; 
mercy  he  cryed  him  thoe.3 


Lybius 
grants  it 


on  condition 
that  he  and 
his  two 
brothers 
go  to  Arthur, 


anon  Sir  Lybius  said,  "  nay, 
572     thou  shalt  not  passe  this  away — 
by  him  that  bought  mankind — 

but  thou  &  thy  brethren  twayne 

plight  jour  trothes  without  Layine 
576         that  yee  will  to  ~King  Arthur  wende, 

&  say,  '  Lord  of  great  renowne  ! 

in  battaill  wee  be  ouercome ; 


linst.— -P. 

The  Cotton  text  omits  these  lines, 
and  in  the  next  ones  makes  both  brothers 
yield  to  Lybius. — F. 

3  The  French  makes  the  battle  with 


the  third  knight  last  all  night  till  next 
day ;  then  the  horse  of  Sir  G-ramadone  des 
Aies  slips  and  falls,  Lybius  seizes  the 
prostrate  rider,  and  he  is  obliged  to 
yield,  p.  41-2.— F. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


437 


a  Knight  vs  hither  hath  send 
580     ffor  to  yeeld  thee  tower  &  towune, 
&  to  bee  att  thy  bandowne  1 
euermore  withouten  end.' 


and  give  up 
their  all  to 
him. 


"  &  but  if  you  will  doe  soe, 
584     certes  I  will  you  sloe 

as  I  am  true  Knight." 
anon  they  sware  to  him  thoe  ; 
that  they  wold  to  Arthur  goe, 
588         their  trothes  anon  the  plight. 
Sir  Lybius  &  that  ffaire  May 
rode  fforth  on  the  way 

thither  as  they  had  hight ; 
592     till  itt  beffell  on  the  3'-1  day 

the  ffell  together  in  game  &  pley, 
hee  and  thai,  Maiden  bright. 


They 

to  do  this, 


and  Lybius 
rides  on  with 
Hellen. 


On  the  third 
day 


they  rode  fforthe  on  west 
596     into  a  wyde  ffor  rest, 

&  might  come  to  noe  towne ; 
the  ne  wist  what  way  best, 
ffor  there  they  must  needs  rest, 
600         &  there  they  light  a-downe. 
amonge  the  greene  cues  2 
they  made  a  lodge  with  bower  &  leaues, 

with  swords  bright  and  browne. 
604     Sir  Lybius  &  that  maiden  bright      [page  326] 
dwelled  there  all  night,3 

that  was  soe  ffaire  of  ffashyon. 


they  are 
benighted  in 
a  forest 


and  camp 
out. 


1  Fr.  bandon,  "A  son  bandon,"  i.  e.  at 
his  will  and  Pleasure.    Gl.  G.  Doug.— P. 

2  eaves.  Metaph.  from  a  house  build 
ing.— P. 

3  The  French  picture  is  prettier: 


Li  Desconneus  se  dormoit 

Sur  Ferbe  fresce  u  reposoit ; 

Dales  lui  gist  la  damoisele, 

Deseur  son  brae  gist  la  pucele; 

Li  uns  dales  1'autre  dormoit, 

Li  lousignols  sor  els  cantoit.  (p.  23.) 


438 


LIBITJS   DISCONIUS. 


The  dwarf 
keeps  watch, 


sees  a  great 
fire, 


Lybius, 
and  says 
they  must  be 
off, 


as  he  smells 
roast  meat. 


then  the  dwarffe  began  to  wake, 
608     ffor  noe  theeues  shold  take 

away  their  horsses  with  guile  ; 
then  ffor  ffeare  he  began  to  quake  ; 
a  great  ffyer  hee  saw  make 
612         ffrom  them  but  a  mile. 

"  arise,"  he  said,  "  worthy  "Knight  I 
to  horsse  that  wee  were  dight 

ffor  doubt  of  more  perill ! 
616     certes  I  heare  a  great  bost 1  ; 
alsoe  I  smell  a  savor  of  rost, 
by  god  &  by  S*.  Gyle !  " 


Lybius 


and  finds 
two 

giants, 


a  black  one 
holding  a 
maid  by  the 
bosom, 


620 


rides  off,          3*  part. 


624 


628 


[The  Third  Part:] 

Lybius  was  stout  &  gay, 
&  leapt  vpon  his  palffrey, 

&  tooke  his  sheeld  &  speare 
&  rode  fforth  ffull  ffast. 
2  gyants  hee  ffound  at  Last, 
_     [that]2  strong  &  stout  were. 
The  one  was  blacke  as  any  sole,3 
the  other  as  red  as  ffyerye  cole, 

&  ffoule  bothe  they  were, 
the  blacke  Gyant  held  in  his  4  arme 
a  ffaire  mayd  by  the  barme,5 
bright  as  rose  on  bryar6  ; 


1  burst,  report,  like  the  discharge  of  a 
gun :  It  is  still  called  bost  in  Shropsh. 
—P. 

2  Who.— P. 

3  A.-S.    sol,    soil,    filth,    mire,    dirt. 
"Bosworth.    Fr.  souiller,  to  soyle,  slurrie, 
durtie,   smutch,    beray,   begrime.     Cot- 
grave.     The  Cotton  stanza  is  : 

\>a\>  on  was  Eed  &  loj>lyche, 
And  \>at  otyer  swart  as  pyche, 

Grrysly  boj>e  of  chere. 
\>at  oon  helde  yn  hys  barme 
A  mayde  y-clepte  yn  hys  arme, 

As  bry3t  as  blosle  on  brere. — F. 


4  hus  in  the  MS.   with  a    dot. — F. 
The  French  is : 

Car  uns  gaians  moult  la  pressoit, 
A  force  baisier  le  voloit, 
Mais  cele  ne  1'  pooit  soufrir, 
Mais  se  voloit  laissier  morir. 

5  Sinus,  gremium. — P.     A.-S.  bearm, 
the  womb,  lap,  bosom.     Bosworth. — F. 
A  mayde  i-clypped  in  his  barme. — L. 

6  brere,  so  in  Chauc. — P.     Bryar  is 
one  of  the  words  entered  under  eare  in 
Levins's  Manipulus  or  Ehyming  Diction 
ary,  p.  209,  col.  1,  ed.  1867.— F. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


439 


the  red  Gyant  fFull  yarne 
632     swythe  about  can  turne 

a  wild  bore  on  a  spitt ; 
ffaire  the  fFyer  gan  berne. 
the  maid  cryed  fFull  yerne, 
636         for  men  shold  itt  witt ; 

shee  said,  "  alas  &  euer  away 
that  euer  I  abode  this  day 

with  2  devills  for  to  sitt ! 
640     helpe,  Mary  thai,  is  soe  mild, 
for  the  loue  of  the l  child, 
that  I  be  not  fforgett !  " 

Sir  Lybius  said,  "by  S'  lame  ! 
644     ffor  2  to  bring  that  maid  ffrom  shame 

itt  were  fFull  great  price  ; 
but  fFor  to  fight  with  both  in  shame  3 
it  is  no  childs  game, 
648         they  be  soe  grim  and  grise.4  " 
he  tooke  his  course  with  his  shaft 
as  a  man  that  cold  his  crafFt, 
&  he  rode  by  right  assise  : 
652     the  blacke  he  smote  all  soe  smart 
through  the  liuer,  long  5  &  hart 
that  he  might  neuer  rise. 

then  filed  that  maiden  sheene, 
656     &  thanked  6  Marye,  heauens  queene, 
that  succour  had  her  sent. 

then  came  mayd  Ellen 

&  the  dwarfie  by-dene,7 
660         &  by  the  hand  her  hent, 


a  red  one 


roasting  a 
boar  on  a 
spit. 

The  maid 
cries  out 


for  help. 


Lybius  says 


it's  no  child's 
play  to  fight 
both  giants, 


but  he 
charges  the 
black  one, 

and  runs 
him  right 
through  the 
heart. 


The  maid 
flees; 


Hellen  takes 
her 


1  perhaps  thy. — P. 

2  for.— P.     qu.  MS.  ffea.—  F. 

8  in  same,  i.  e.  together,  ensemble,  Fr. 
-P. 

4  id.  ac  grisly,  horrid,  horrible. — P. 

5  lung.— P. 


6  d  added  by  Percy.— F. 

7  MS.  "  &  by  the  dwarffe  dene,"  but 
the  tmesis  must  be  a  copier's  mistake. 
— F.      And    the    Dwarf    by-dene. — P. 
Sche  &  here  dwerk  y-mene. — Cot. 


440 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


into  the 
forest, 


and  she 
prays  for 

Lybius's 
safety. 


The  red 
giant 
hits  at 
Lybius  with 
the  boar, 


and  knocks 
his  horse 
down. 

Lybius 
fights  with 
his  sword. 


The  giant 
lays  on 
Lybius  with 
his  spit, 


covers  him 
with  boar's 


&  went  into  the  greaues,1 

&  lodged  them  vnder  the  leaues 

in  a  good  entent ; 
664     &  shee  besought  lesus 
flbr  to  helpe  Sir  Lybius 
thai  hee  was  not  shent. 

the  red  Gyant  smote  thore2 
668     att  Sir  Lybius  with  the  bore 

as  a  woolfe  that  were  woode  ; 
his  Dints  he  sett  soe  sore,  . 
that  Sir  Lybius  horsse  therfore 
672         downe  to  the  ground  yode.3 

then  S^r  Lybius  with  ffeirce  hart, 
out  of  his  saddle  swythe  he  start 

as  spartle  4  doth  out  of  fyer  ; 
676     feir[c]ely  as  any  Lyon 

he  Sought  w^th  his  ffawchyon 
to  quitt  the  Gyant  his  hyer. 

5  the  Gyants  spitt  sickerlye 
680     was  more  then  a  cowle  tree6 
that  he  rosted  on  the  bore  ; 
He  laid  on  S^'r  Lybius  ffast, 
all  the  while  the  spitt  did  last, 
684         euer  more  and  more. 

the  bore  was  soe  hott  then, 

that  on  Sir  Lybius  the  grease  ran 


1  i.e.  Groves,  Bushes.     So  in  Chauc. 
—P. 

2  i.  e.  there,  metri  gratia,  so  in  Chauc. 
—P. 

3  went. — p.  The  French  makes  Lybius 
kill  the  other  giant  first : 

II  .  .  fiert  celui  premieremant 
Qui  esfor9oit  la  damoisele. 
Si  la  feru  les  la  mamiele. 
Le  fer  li  fist  el  cuer  serrer  ; 
Les  ioils  del  cief  li  fist  torbler ; 
Mort  le  trebuce  el  feu  ardant.  (p.  27.) 
The  Cotton  text  (leaf  46  back,  col.  2) 


follows  the  French : 

\>Q  blake  geaunt  he  smote  smert 
borgh  the  lyuere,  longe,  &  herte,  ' 
J?at  neuer  he  my3te  aryse. — F. 

4  sparkle. — P.     sparky  11. — L.     sperk. 
— C. 

5  This  stanza  is  not  in  C.  or  L. — F. 

6  ?  Phillipps's    coul-staff:    "  Coul,   a 
kind  of  Tub,  or  Vessel  with  two  Ears  to 
be  carry'd  between  two  Persons  with  a 
Coul-staff"     See  Lambarde's  Perambu 
lation,  p.  367,  and  Strntt,  ii.  201,  says 
Halliwell,  under  Cowlstaff.—F. 


L1BIUS    DISCOMUS. 


441 


right  ffast  thore.1 

688     the  gyant  was  stiffe  &  stronge, 
15  fFoote  he  was  Longe  ; 

hee  smote  Sir  Lybius  ffull  sore. 

Euer  still  the  gyant  smote 
C92     att  Sir  Lybius,  well  I  wott, 

till  the  spitt  brast  in  towe. 
then  as  man  tJiat  was  wrath, 
ffor  a  Trunchyon  fforth  he  goth 
696  to  flight  aga[i]nst  his  ffoe, 
&  w/th  the  End  of  that  spitt 
Sir  Lybius  sword  2  in  3  he  hitt. 

then  was  Sir  Lybius  wonderous  woe. 
700     or  he  againe  his  staffe  vp  caught, 
Sir  Lybius  a  stroke  him  rought 
tJiat  his  riovht  arme  fFell  him  ffroe. 


and  batters 
him  till 


the  spit 
breaks. 
Then  he  gets 
a  truncheon, 


and  splits 
Lybius's 
shield  with 
it, 


but  drops 
his  staff. 
Lybius  cuts 
off  his  right 
arm, 


the  Gyant  ffell  to  the  ground, 
704     &  Sir  Lybius  in  that  stond 
smote  of  his  head  thoe : 
in  a  ffrench  booke  itt  is  ffound.3 
to  the  other  he  went  in  that  stond,4 
708          &  serued  him  right  soe. 
he  tooke  vp  the  heads  then 
&  bare  them  to  that  flair  e  maiden 

that  he  had  woone  in  flight. 
712     the  maid  was  glad  &  blythe, 
&  thanked  god  often  sithe 

tJiat  euer  he  was  made  a  "Knight. 

Sir  Lybius  said,  "  gentle  dame, 
716     tell  me  now  what  is  your  name 


then  his 
head, 


and  gives 
both  heads 
to  the 
maiden. 


She 


1  There    is    nothing    of    this    grease 
business  in  the  French  and  Cotton  texts. 
— F. 

2  scheld.— Cot.     The  French  has  not 
the  passage. — F. 

VOL.  II.  G  G 


8  Eenals  de  Biauju's  text  omits  the 
cutting  off  of  the  right  arm,  but  makes 
Lybius  split  the  giant's  head  to  the 
teeth.— F. 

4  stound.— P. 


442 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


tells  him 
that  her 
father  is 


an  earl, 

Sir  Arthore, 

and  her 
name  is 
Violet. 


&  where  that  you  were  borne." 
"Sir,"  she  said,  "by  S!  lame, 
my  ffather  is  of  rich  ffame, 
720         &  dwelleth  here  beforne  ; 
he  is  a  ~Lord  of  much  might, 
an  Erie  &  a  Noble  Knight ; 

his  name  is  S[ir]  Arthore, 
724     &  my  name  is  Yylett,1 

thai  the  Gyant  had  besett 

for  the  Castle  ore. 


She  was  out 
walking 


when  the 
giant  sprang 
on  her, 


and  would 

have 

destroyed 

her, 

had  it  not 

been  for 

Lybius. 

Christ 

reward  him ! 


728 


732 


736 


"  as  I  went  on  my  demeaning  2 
to-night  in  the  eueni[n]ge, 

none  euill  then  I  thought  ; 
the  gyant,  with-  out  leasing, 
out  of  bush  he  gan  spring, 

&  to  the  flyer  me  brought. 
of  him  I  had  beene  shent, 
but  thai  god  me  succour  sent 

thai  all  this  world  hath  wrought. 
Sir  Knight  I  god  yeeld  thee  thy  meed, 
ffor  vs  thai  on  the  roode  did  bleed, 

&  with  his  blood  vs  bought  !  " 


They  all  ride 
to 


without  any  more  talking 
740     to  their  horsses  they  gan  spring,3 


1  Vilett,  Vjolette.— P.  Vyolette.— Cot. 
The  French  gives  the  name  and  story 
differently : 

.  .  nominee  sui  Clarie  .  . 

Et  Saigremors  si  est  mes  frere, 

Li  jaians  me  prist  ces  mon  pere. 

En  un  vergier  hui  mais  entrai 

Et  por  moi  deduire  i  alai. 

Li  jaians  ert  desous  1'entree, 

Trova  la  porte  desfremee  ; 

Iluec  me  prist,  si  m'enporta, 

Ici  son  conpaignon  trova.  (p.  32.) — P. 

2  probably  going  a  walking,  demener, 


the  same  as  promener,  qu. — P. 

Yesterday  yn  the  mornynge 

Y  wente  on  my  playnge. 

Cot.  MS.  in  Eitson. 
8  The  French  text  makes  them  first 
have  a  grand  feast  on  the  grass  off  the 
giants'  food.  Squire  Sobers  distinguishes 
himself  as  cook,  seneschal,  butler,  mar 
shal,  chamberlain,  and  squire,  helped  by 
the  dwarf,  p.  32-34.  Sobers  is  a  most 
useful  personage  all  through  the  French 
story.— F. 


LIBITJS    DISCONIUS. 


443 


&  rode  fforth  all  in- same, 
&  told  the  Erie  in  euery  thing  l 
how  he  wan  in  flighting 
744         his  Daughter  ffrom  woe  &  shame, 
then  were  these  heads  sent 
vnto  ~K.ing  Arthur  ffor  a  present 

with  much  mirth  &  game, 
748     that  in  Arthurs  court  arose 
of  Sir  Lybius  great  Losse  2 

&  a  right  good  name. 


Sir 
Arthorc's, 


and  Lybius 
sends  the 
giants'  heads 
to  King 
Arthur. 


752 


•56 


760 


4f  parte, 


764 


3  the  Erie,  ffor  that  good  deede, 
gaue  Sir  Lybius  for  his  meede 

sheeld  and  armour  bright, 
&  alsoe  a  noble  steede 
that  was  good  in  euery  e  need, 

in  trauayle  &  in  night. 

[The  Fourth  Part.] 

now  Sir  Lybius  and  his  May 
tooke  their  leaue,  &  rode  their  way 

thither  as  they  had  hight.4 

•  Then  they  saw  in  a  parke  [page  328] 

a  Castle  stiffe  &  starke,5 

that  was  ffull  maruelouslye  dight ; 


wrought  itt  was  with  lime  &  stone, — 
such  a  one  saw  he  neuer  none, — 
with  towers  stiffe  &  stout. 


Sir  Arthore 
gives  Lybius 


and  a  noble 
steed. 


Lybius  rides 
on  towards 
the  Waste 
Land, 


and  sees  a 
castle 


1  erl  tydynge. — Cot. 

2  lose,  praise. — F. 

8  The  Cotton  text  has  an  extra  stanza 
here,  in  which  Sir  Arthore  offers  Lybius 
his  daughter  Vyolette  to  wife,  but  the 
offer  is  declined,  leaf  47  b.  MS.,  p.  30, 
Eitson.  The  French  has  neither  of  the 
stanzas. — F. 

4  |>ey  Kyde  forj>  alle  J>re 


Toward  \>e  fayre  cyte, 

Kardeuyle  fore  soj>  hyt  hy3t. — C. 
Here  follow  in  the  French  a  page  and 
a  quarter  of  what   M.   Hippeau  terms 
"  Digression  de  1'Auteur :  II  sera  fidele 
a  celle    qu'il   ne    peut  encore    nommer 
s'amie,  mais  qu'il  appelle  la  moult  aimee" 
The  next  adventure  with   Sir  Gefferon, 
or  Part  IV,  is  omitted. — F. 
5  i.  e.  strong. — P. 

2 


444 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


which  he 
thinks  very 
strong. 


Hellen  tells 
him  that  a 
brave  knight 
lives  there : 


whoever 
brings  him 
a  lady 


fairer  than 
his  own, 
gets  a  white 
falcon ; 


but  if  she  is 
not  so  fair, 
Sir  Gefferon 


cuts  his  head 
off. 


Lybius 
declares  he'll 
fight 
Gefferon, 


and  produce 
Hellen  as 
his  love. 


Sir  Lybius  said,  "  soe  haue  I  blis  ! 
worthy  dwelling  here  itt  is 
768         to  them  that  stood  in  doubt !  " 
then  laughed  that  Maiden  bright, 
&  sayd,  "  here  dwelleth  a  "Knight, 

the  best  that  here  is  about. 
772     who- soe  will  w^th  him  flight, — 
be  he  Baron  or  be  he  knight, — : 
he  maketh  him  to  loute. 

"  soe  well  he  loueth  his  Leman 
776     that  is  soe  flaire  a  woman, 

&  a  worthy  in  weede, 
who- soe  bringeth  a  ffairer  then, 
a  ioly  fiawcon  as  white  as  swan 
780         he  shall  haue  to  his  meede. 
&  if  shee  be  not  soe  bright, 
with  Sir  GefFeron  he  must  flight ; 

&  if  he  may  not  speed, 
784     l  his  [head]  shall  be  ffrom  him  take, 
&  sett  flull  hye  vpon  a  stake, 
trulye  w^'thouten  dread. 

"  the  sooth  you  may  see  and  heere  ; 
788     there  is  on  euery  corner2 

a  head  or  tow  flull  right." 
Sir  Lybius  sayd  al  soe  soone, 
"by  god  &  by  S!  lohn ! 
792         with  S^r  G-efleron  will  I  flight, 
&  chalenge  the  lolly  ffawcon, 
&  say  that  I  haue  one  in  the  towne, 

a  lemman  al  soe  3  bright ; 
796     &  if  hee  will  her  see, 
then  I  will  bring  4  thee, 
be  itt  day  or  by  night."  5 


1  his  [head]  shall.— P. 

2  Percy  has   added  an  e  at  the  end. 
— F. 

3  MS.  alsoe,  and  in  line  790.— F.     al 


soe. — P 

4  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 

5  by  day  or  night,  or  dele  by. — P. 


LIBIUS    DISCOMUS. 


445 


the  dwarffe  sayd,  "  by  Sweete  lesus  ! 
800     gentle  Sir  Lybyus  l  Disconiys, 

thou  puttest  thee  in  great  perill. 
S^r  Giffron  La  ffraudeus,2 
in  ffighting  he  hath  an  vse 
804         Knights  ffor  to  beguile." 

Sir  Lybius  answered  and  sware, 
&  said,  "  therof  I  haue  no  care  ! 

by  god  &  by  S*  Gyle, 
808     I  will  see  him  in  the  fface 
or  I  passe  out  of  this  place, 
ffor  all  his  subtulle  wile  ! 


The  dwarf 
warns  him 


of  Gcft'eron's 
wiles. 


Lybius 
doesn't  care 
for  'em ;  he 
it-ill  fight. 


w/thout  any  more  questyoii 
812     the3  dwelled  still  in  the  towne 

all  night  there  in  peace, 
on  the  morrow  he  made  him  readie 
ffor  to  winne  him  the  Masterye 
816         certes4  w*'thouteii  Lease, 
he  armed  him  ffull  sure 
in  the  sayd  Armor 

thai  King  Arthurs  5  was, 
820     &  his  horsse  began  he  to  stryde  ; 
the  dwarffe  rod  by  his  syde 
to  tliai  strong  palace. 

Sir  Gyffron  la  ffraudeus 
824     rose  vp,  as  itt  was  his  vse, 
in  the  morrow  tyde 

ffor  to  honor  sweete  lesus. 

then  he  was  ware  of  S^r  Lybius  ; 
828         as  a  prince  of  much  pryde 


Next  day 
Lybius 


and  rides  to 


Gefferon's 
castle. 


Gefferon, 


sees  him, 


1  There  is  a  stroke  too  many  after  the 
in  the  MS.— F. 

2  Syr  Gyffroun  le  flowdous.— Cot. 
3  they.— P. 


4  MS.  certer.-  F. 

5  erl  autores. — Cot.,  which   must  be 
right. — F.     sir  Arthores,  or  ~Knight  Ar- 
thores.—P. 


446 


LIBIUS   DISCONITJS. 


and  asks  why 
he  comes. 


832 


ffast  he  rode  into  thai  place. 

Sir  leffron  marnailed  att  that  case, 

&  loud  to  Mm  did  crye 
with  voyce  loud  and  shrill : 
"  comest  thou  ffor  good  or  ill  ? 

tell  me  now  on  hye." 


"  To  fight 
you,"  says 
Lybius ; 

"  you  have 
no  such  fair 
maiden  as  I 
have; 


give  me 
your  falcon 
for  King 
Arthur. 


836 


840 


844 


Sir  Lybius  said  al  soe  l  tyte, 
"  certes  I  haue  greate  delight 

with  thee  ffor  to  flight ! 
thou  hast  [said]  great  despite  ;  2 
thou  hast  a  Leman,3  none  so  whyte 

by  day  or  by  night 
as  I  haue  one  in  the  towne, 
ffairer  of  ffashyon 

for  to  see  with  sight, 
therfore  thy  lolly  ffawcowne, 
to  JLing  Arthur  with  the  crowne 

bring  I  will  by  right." 


[page  329] 


\ 


My  lady  is  in 
Cardigan ; 


we'll  set 
yours  and 
mine  in  the 
market, 
and  see 
which  is 
the  fairer." 


Sir  Geffron  said  al  soe  right, 
848     "  where  shall  wee  see  that  sight, 

whether  the  ffairer  bee  ?  " 
Sir  Lybius  said,  "  wee  will  ffull  right 
in  Cardigan  see  that  sight,4 
852         there  all  men  may  itt  see  ; 
in  the  middes  of  that  Markett, 
there  shall  they  both  be  sett 

to  looke  on  them  soe  ffree  5  ; 
856     &  if  my  Leman  be  browne, 
ffor  thy  lolly  ffawcowne 
iust  I  will  with  thee." 


1  MS.  alsoe,  and  in  1.  847.— F. 

2  Thou  seyste  a  foule  dispite. — Lam. 
8  Lennan  in  the  MS.— F. 


4  In  Cardeuyle  eyte  ryjt. — Cot. 
6  bothe  bond  &  fre.— Cot. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


447 


Sir  Geffron  said  alsoe  then, 
860     "  I  wold  ffaine  as  any  man 

to-day  att  yondertyde.1 
all  this  I  grant  thee  well, 
&  out  of  this  Castell 
864         to  Cardigan  2  I  will  ryde." 
their  gloues  were  there  vp  yold, 
thai  fforward  3  to  hold, 

as  princes  proud  in  pryde. 
868     S/r  Lybius  wold  no  longer  blinn,4 
but  rode  againe  to  his  inn 
&  wold  no  longer  abyde. 

he  said  to  maid  Ellen 
872     that  was  soe  bright  &  sheene, 

"  looke  thou  make  thee  bow  no  ! 
I  thee  say,  by  S*  Quintin, 
S/r  Gefferons  Leman  I  will  winn : 
876         to-day  shee  will  come  to  towne, 
in  the  midds  of  this  cytye, 
that  men  may  you  see, 

&  of  you  bothe  the  ffashyon ; 
880     &  if  thou  be  not  soe  bright, 
w^th  Sir  Geffron  I  shall  ffight 
to  winne  the  lolly e  fiawcowne." 

the  dwarffe  answered,  "  for- thy  5 
884     that  thou  doest  a  deed  hardye  6 

ffor  any  man  borne, 
thou  wilt  doe  by  no  mans  read 


Gefferon 
agrees. 


Lybius  rides 
back,  and 


tells  Ilelleu 
to  get  ready, 


as  she  is  to 
be  shown 
against 
Gefferou's 
love. 


The  dwarf 
tells  him  it's 
a  foolhardy 
business ; 


1  forte  ondertyde. — P.      )>ys   day   at 
vnderne  tyde. — C.     This  daye  at  vnder- 
tide. — L. 

2  Karlof. — Cot.     Kardyle. — Lam. 

3  A.-S.  foreweard,  agreement. — F. 

4  blim  in  the  MS.— F. 

8  for  thy,  therefore,  according  to  G-l. 
Ch.  &  Gr.D.,  here  it  should  seem  to  be 
forthwith. — P.  Cot.  omits  this  stanza. 


The  Lambeth  MS.  has : 

The  Dwerff  answerd  and  seid, 
"  Thow  doste  a  savage  dede  ! 

ffor  any  man  i -borne 
Tow  wilt  not  do  by  Rede, 
But  faryst  with  thi  madd  hede 
As  lorde  that  will  be  lorne." 
u  hardye,  qu. — P.    MS.  not  clear.— F. 


448 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


he'd  better 
go  on  his 
way. 


Lybius  won't 
hear  of  this. 


for  thou  fforest  in  thy  child  head 
888         as  a  man  thai  wold  be  lorne  ! 
&  therfore  I  thee  pray 
to  wend  fforth  on  thy  way, 

&  come  not  him  beforne." 

892     Sir  Lybius  said,  "  thai  were  great  shame  ! 
I  had  leuer  with  great  grame  1 
with  wild  horsses  to  be  torne." 


Hellen 
decks  herself 


with  a  violet 
mantle, 


and  precious 
stones, 


maid  Ellen,  ffaire  and  free, 
896     made  hast  sickerlye 
her  ffor  to  attyre 
in  Keicheys  2  thai  were  white, 
for  to  doe  all  his  delight, 
900         with  good  3  gold  wyer. 

a  vyolett  mantle,  the  sooth  to  say, 
ffurred  well  with  gryse  gay,4 

shee  cast  about  her  Lyer  5  ; 
904     the  stones  shee  had  about  her  mold 
were  precyous  &  sett  with  gold,6 
the  best  in  thai  shire. 


and  rides  on 
a  palfrey 


to  Cardigan 
market. 


Sir  Lybius  sett  thai  ffaire  May 
908     on  7  a  right  good  8  Palffrey, 
&  rode  fforth  all  three. 

euery  man  to  other  gan  say, 

"  heere  cometh  a  ffaire  May, 
912         And  louelye  ffor  to  see  !  " 

into  the  Markett  hee  rode, 

&  boldly  there  abode 


[page  330] 


1  i.e.  grief,  sorrow;  vexation,  anger; 
madness:    trouble,     affliction,     G-1.    ad 
Chauc. — P. 

2  Kercheffs,  qu.— P.      keuechers.— C. 
kerchevys. — L. 

3  arayde  wyth. — Cot. 

*  Pelured  -with  grys  &  gray. — Cot. 


5  swyre  (neck). — Cot. 

6  A  sercle  vp-on  here  molde, 
Of  stones  &  of  golde. — Cot. 

Mold,   the    suture  of  the   skull;    form, 
fashion,  appearance. — Halliwell. 

7  om,  or  ?  one,  in  the  MS.— F. 

8  Vp-on  a  pomely. — Cot. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


449 


in  the  middes  l  of  that  citye. 
anon  the  saw  Geffron  come  ryde, 
&  2  squiers  by  his  side, 

&  na  more  meanye  2  : 


To  them 

comes 

Gefferon, 


he  bare  a  sheelde  of  greene, 
920     richelye  itt  was  to  be  seene  3  ; 

of  gold  was  the  bordure, 
dight  itt  was  with  fflowers 
&  alsoe  with  rich  colours, 
924         like  as  itt4  were  an  Emperour. 
the  5  squiers  did  w^'th  him  ryde  ; 
the  one  bare  by  his  side 

3  shafts  good  &  stoure,6 
928     the  other  bare,  his  head  vpon, 
a  gentle  lolly  ffawcon  7 
that  was  laid  to  wager ; 


with  two 
squires 


(one  bearing 
a  falcon) 


&  after  did  a  Lady  ryde, 
932     ffaire  &  bright,  of  Much  pryde, 

cladd  in  purple  pall, 
the  people  came  ffarr  &  wyde 
to  see  that  Ladye  in  that  tyde,8 
936         how  gentle  9  shee  was  and  small ; 
her  mantle  was  of  purple  ffine, 
well  ffurred  w*'th  good  Armine, 

itt  was  rich  and  royall ; 

940     a  sercotte  sett  about  her  necke  soe  sweete 
with  dyamond  &  with  Margarett, 
&  many  a  rich  Emerall ; 


and  his  fair 
lady, 


clad  in 


purple, 


her  surcoat 
set  with 
diamonds, 
pearls, 
and 
emeralds ; 


1  niddes  in  the  MS.— F. 

2  attendants.— P. 

8  He  bare  >e  schelde  of  goules, 
Of  syluer  thre  whyte  oules. — C. 
He  bare  the  shelde  gowlys, 
Off  syluer  three  white  owlys. — L. 

4  hee.— P. 

5  two.— P. 


6  Idem  ac  sture,  ingens,  crassus,  Lye. 
—P. 

7  I  would,  read  ler-faucon.  see  st.  37 
[1.  977]  below.— P.     gerfawcone.— C. 

8  To    se   here    bak   &    syde.  —  Cot. 
(which  has  many  variations  in  the  follow 
ing  lines). — F. 

9  forte,  gimp. — P. 


450 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


her  hue 
rose-red, 

her  hair 
golden, 

her  brows 
like  silk, 


her  eyes 
grey. 


The  lookers- 
on 


put  two 
chairs  for 
the  ladies, 


and  decide 
that 

Gefferon's 
is  the  fairer. 


Hellen  is 
only  fit  to  be 
her  laundry- 
maid. 


Lybius  then 
challenges 
Gefferon  to 
fight. 


her  colour  was  as  the  rose  red  ; 
944     her  haire  that  was  on  her  head, 

as  gold  wyer  itt  shone  bright ; 
her  browes  were  al  soe  l  silke  spread^ 
ffaire  bent  in  lenght  &  bread  ; 
948         her  nose  was  ffaire  and  right ; 
her  eyen  gray  as  any  glasse  ; 
milke  white  was  her  fface. 

the  said  that  sawe  that  sight, 
952     her  body  gentle  and  small, 
'  her  beautye  ffor  to  tell  all, 
noe  man  w^th  tounge  might.' 

unto  the  Markett  men  gan  bring 
956     2  Chaires  ffor  to  sitt  in, 

their  bewtye  ffor  to  descrye. 
then  said  both  old  &  younge, — 
fforssooth  without  Leasing 
960         betweene  them  was  party e, — 2 
Geffrons  Leman  was  ffaire  &  cleere 
as  euer  was  any  rose  on  bryer,3 

ffor  sooth  without  Lye. 
964     Maid  Ellen,  the  Messenger, 

seemed  to  her  but  a  Launderer  4 
in  her  nurserye. 

then  said  Sir  Geffron  la  ffraudeus,5 
968     "  Sir  Knight,  by  Sweet  lesus, 

thy  head  thou  hast  fforlore  6  !  " 

"  nay  !  "  said  Sir  Lybius, 

"  that  was  neuer  my  vse  ! 
972         iust  I  will  therfore  ; 


1  MS.  alsoe.— F. 

2  This  Line  in  a  Parenthesis. — P. 

3  brere. — P.    There  is  no  short  stroke 
to  the  y  in  the  MS. — F. 

4  i.  e.  Launderess,  Laundress. — P. 


5  le  fludous.— Cot. 

6  lost.— P.     The  Cotton  MS.  reads 

Syr  lybeaus  Desconus, 
J?ys  hauk  J?cu  hast  for-lore. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS.  451 

"  &  if  thou  beare  me  downe, 
take  my  head  on  thy  ffawchyon, 

&  home  with  thee  itt  lead  ; 
976     &  if  I  beare  downe  thee, 

the  lerffaucon  shall  goe  with  mee 

maugre  thy  head  indeed. 

"  what  needeth  vs  more  to  chyde  ? 
980     but  into  the  saddle  let  vs  glyde, 
to  proue  our  mastery." 

either  smote  on  others  sheeld  the  while         They  charge 

with  crownackles  *  that  were  of  steele, 
984         with  great  envye. 

then  their  speares  brake  assunder  ;  and  their 

spears  break. 

the  dints  ffared  as  the  thunder 

that  cometh  out  of  the  skye. 
988     trumpetts  &  tabours, 

herawdyes  &  good  desoures,2 

Their  stroakes  ffor  to  3  descrye.    [page  331] 

Geffron  then  began  to  speake  : 
992     "  bring  me  a  spere  that  will  not  breke,         Gefferon 

calls  for  a 

a  shalt  w*th  one  crownall  !  spear  that? 

won't  break, 

fior  this  young  ffeley  ffreke 
sitteth  in  his  saddle  steke  4 
996         as  stone  in  Castle  wall. 

I  shall  make  him  to  stoope  and  he'll 

.  ,  ..  .  n  , .  soon  unhorse 

swithe  ouer  his  saddle  croope,  Lybius ! 

&  giue  him  a  great  fFall, 
1000     tho  he  were  as  wight  a  warryour 
as  Alexander  or  Arthur, 

SIT  Lancelott  or  Sir  Perciuall." 

1  coronals. — Cot.     Coronet,  the  upper  seem  to  signify  the  heads  of  the  spears, 

part  of  a  jousting-lance,  constructed  to  — P. 

unhorse,   but  not  to  wound,  a  knight.          2  disours,  tellers,  narraters. — F. 
Fairholt,  p.  426  (with   a   cut  of  one).  3  gon. — Cot. 

— F.  This  seems  to  be  the  same  as  Crow-  '  4  steke  for  stuck,  rhithmi  gratia. — P. 
nail,  st.  40  [of  MS.,  1.  993  here],    both 


452 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


They  charge 
again. 


Gefferon 
loses  his 
shield. 


1004 


1008 


1012 


then  the  Knights  both  tow 
rode  together  swithe  thoe 

with  great  ren[d]owne  ]  : 
Sir  Lybius  smote  Sir  Geffron  soe 
that  his  sheild  ffell  him  ffroe 

into  the  ffeeld  againe.2 
then  laughed  all  that  was  there, 
&  said  without  more, 

Duke,  Erie,  or  Barron, 
that  "  the  saw  neuer  a  ~Knight, 
ne  noe  man  abide  might 

a  course  of  SIT  Geffron." 


The  third 
course, 
Gefferon 
does  no 
thing. 

The  fourth, 


another  course  gan  the  ryde  : 
1016     Sir  Geffron  was  aggreeued  that  tyde 

ffor  hee  might  not  speede. 
he  rode  againe  al  soe  3  tyte, 
&  Sir  Lybius  he  gan  4  smite 
1020         as  a  doughtye  man  of  deed. 


Lybius 


breaks 

Gefferon's 

back, 


and  wins  his 
falcon. 


Sir  Lybius  smote  him  soe  ffast 
that  Sir  Geffron  soone  he  cast 

him  and  his  horsse  a-downe  ; 
1024     Sir  leffrons  backe  bone  he  brake 
that  the  ffolkes  hard  itt  cracke  ; 

lost  was  his  renowne. 
then  they  all  said,  lesse  &  more, 
1028     that  Sir  Geffrons  had  Lore 

the  white  Gerffawcon.5 
the  people  came  Sir  Lybius  before, 
&  went  with  him,  lesse  &  more, 
1032         anon  into  the  towne  ; 


1  With  welle  greet  Kaundoun. — Cot. 

2  I  vrould.  read  adowne.  see  below,  st. 
45. — P.     a-doun. — Cot.     a-downe.— L. 


3  MS.  alsoe.— F. 

4  MS.  gam. — F. 


5  Only  half  the  w  in  the  MS. — F. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


453 


1036 


&  Sir  Geffron  ffrom  the  ffeeld 
was  borne  home  on  his  sheild 

with  care  and  ru.effu.ll  inone. 
the  Gerffawcon  sent  was, 
by  a  knight  that  hight  Chaudas,1 

to  bring  to  Arthur  with  the  crowne  ; 


Gefferon  is 

carried 

home. 


The  falcon 
is  sent  by 
Chaudas 


1040 


1044 


1048 


&  rote  2  to  him  all  that  dead,3 
&  with  him  he  gan  to  leade 

the  ffawcon  that  Sir  Lybius  wan. 
when  the  ~King  had  heard  itt  read, 
he  said  to  his  knights  in  that  stead, 

"  Sir  Ljbius  well  warr  can ! 
he  hath  me  sent  with  honor 
that  he  hath  done  battells  4 

since  that  he  began  ; 
I  will  him  send  of  my  treasure, 
ffor  to  spend  to  his  honor, 

as  ffalleth4  ffor  such  a  man." 


to  King 
Arthur, 


who  praises 
Lybius, 


a  100"  ready  5  prest 
1052     of  ffloryins  to  spend  with  the  best, 

he  sent  to  Cardigan  towne. 
then  Sir  Lybius  held  a  feast 
that  lasted  40  dayes  att  Least 
1056         with  Lords  of  renowne.6 
&  att  the  6:  weeke  end 
hee  tooke  his  leaue,  ffor  to  wend, 
of  duke,  Erie,  and  Barren. 


and  sends 
him  to 
Cardigan 
£100  of 
florins, 
with  which 
Lybius 
makes  a 
forty  days' 
feast, 


and  then 
takes  his 
leave. 


1  There  was  one  Chandos  a  herald, 
whose  book   is  preserved  in  Worcester 
College  Library,  Ox  on. — P. 

2  He  wrote,  sic  legerim. — P. 
<  deed.— P. 

4  fitteth,  qu. — P. 
6  ready,  speedy. — P. 


8  The  Cotton  text  sends  the  falcon 
by  a  knyght  that  hyght  Gludas,  to  King 
Arthur ;  and  Arthur  sends  Lybius  back 
a  hundred  pound  of  florins  to  Cardelof, 
where  Lybius  holds  feast  forty  days. 
(MS.  leaf  49,  col.  2  ;  ed.  Kitson,  p.  42). 


454 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


[The  Fifth  Part.] 

[The  Adventure  of  the  Hound,  and  the  Fight  with  Sir  Otes  de  Lile.] 


Lybius  rides 
on 


towards 
Sinadon. 


He  hears  a 
horn, 


and  the 
dwarf  says 
it's 


1060 


5?  parte 

1064 


1068 


S^'r  Lybius  and  his  ffaire  May 
rode  fibrth  on  their  way 

towards  Sinadon. 
then  as  they  rod  in  a  throwe,1 
homes  heard  they  lowd  blowe, 

&  hoinds  2  of  great  game, 
the  dwarfle  said  in  thai  throwe,3 
"  thai  home  I  well  know 
L     many  yeeres  agone  ; 


Sir  Otes  de 
Lile's. 


1072 


"  Thatt  home  bloweth  S^r  Ortes  de  lile, 
That  serued  4  my  Ladye  a  while 

seemlye  in  her  hall ; 
&  when  shee  was  taken  w^'th  guile, 
he  filed  from  thai  perill 

west  into  worrall.5  " 


[page  332] 


Then  they 
see  a 
beautiful 
hound 


but  as  they  rode  talking, 
1076     they  saw  a  ratch6  runinge 

ouerthwart  the  way. 
then  said  both  old  &  young, 
"  ffrom  the  ffirst  begining 
1080         they  saw  neuer  none  soe  gay." 


1  a  short  space,  sed  vid.  infra,  perhaps 
in  a  row.— P.   A.-S.  \>rah,  a  space,  time. 

2  hounds. — P. 

3  a  cast,  a  stroke.     It.  short  space, 
Chauc.  Gl.— P. 


4  seruede. — Cot. 

8  Wyrhale.— Cot. 

6  Batches.  Genus  Canum :  Braccones, 
Lye.  Jun. — P.  A.-S.  rcece,  a  rach,  a 
setting  dog  ?  Lye,  in  Bosworth.  ?  a  dog 
hunting  by  scent. — F. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


455 


1084 


hee  was  of  all  couloures 
that  men  may  see  on  flowers 

betweene  Midsummer  &  May. 
the  Mayd  sayd  al  soe  l  soone, 
"  soe  faire  a  ratch  I  neuer  saw  none, 

nor  pleasanter  to  my  pay  2 ! 


of  all  sorts 
of  colours. 


Hellen 

wishes  s 
1  al  it. 


"  wold  to  God  thai  I  him  ought  3  ! " 
1088     Sir  Lybius  anon  him  caught, 
&  gaue  him  to  maid  Elen.4 
they  rode  fforth  all  rightes, 
&  told  of  flighting  with  ~K.nighis 
1092         flbr  ladyes  bright  &  sheene. 
they  had  rydden  but  a  while, 
not  the  space  of  [a]  Mile 

into  thai,  fibrrest  greene  ; 
1096     then  they  saw  a  hind  sterke,5 
&  2  grayhounds  thai  were  like 
the  ratch  thai  I  of  meane. 


So  Lybins 
catches  it 
and  gives  it 
her. 


Soon  tliey 


followed  by 
two  grey 
hounds, 


the  hunted  6  still  vnder  the  Lind  7 
1100     to  see  the  course  of  thai  hind 

vnder  the  fforrest  side, 
there  beside  dwelled  thai  TLnighi 
thai  Sir  Otes  de  lile  hight, 
1 104         a  man  of  much  pride  ; 
he  was  cladd  all  in  Inde,8 
&  fiast  pursued  after  the  hind 


and  stop  to 
watch  her. 


Sir  Otes  de 
Lile 


1  MS.  alsoe.— F. 

2  satisfaction,  liking. — P. 

3  owned,  possest. — P. 

4  The  French  text   makes  the  hound 
stop  with   a  thorn  in  its  foot ;  Hellen 
takes  it  out,  rides  off  with  the  dog,  and 
a   huntsman   sees   it   under  her   cloak. 
She  refuses  to  give  it  up  to  him  or  his 
master,  and  so  Sir  Otes,  or  1}  Orguillous 
de  la  Lande,  rides  off  for  his  armour,  and 


fights  Lybius.,— F. 

5  stout  Hind.— P. 

6  hovede  (stopt). — Cot. 

7  Properly  a  Teil  or  Lime  tree,  but 
in  these  ballads  it  seems  to  be  used  for 
Trees  in  general. — P. 

8  i.  e.  azure  or  blue  as  used  by  Lydg. 
— black  according  to   Sp.     Gl.  ad  Ch. 
—P. 


456 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


rides  by  on  a 
bay, 


sees  Lybius 
and  Hellen, 


and 

remonstrates 
with  them 
for  taking 
his  hound. 


Lybius  says 
he  means  to 
keep  it. 


Sir  Otes 
warns  him 
to  look  out 
for  his  life. 


Lybius  calls 
him  a  churl. 


Sir  Otes 
rebukes  him; 


vpon  a  bay  distere  ; 
1 1 08     loude  he  gan  his  home  blow, 
for  the  hunters  shold  itt  know, 
&  know  where  he  were. 

as  he  rode  by  that  woode  right, 
1112     there  he  saw  that  younge  K.night 

&  alsoe  that  ffaire  May  ; 
they  dwarffe  rode  by  his  side. 
Sir  Otes  bade  they  shold  abyde, 
1116         they  Ledd  l  his  ratch  away  : 

"  ffreinds,"  he  said,  "  why  doe  you  soe  ? 
let  my  ratch  ffrom  you  goe  ; 

good  for  you  itt  were. 
1120     I  say  to  you  without  Lye, 
this  ratch  has  beene  my 
all  out  this  7  yeere." 

Sir  Lybius  said  anon  tho, 
1124     "I  tooke  him  with  my  hands  2, 

&  with  me  shall  he  abyde  ; 
I  gaue  him  to  this  maid  hend  2 
that  with  me  dothe  wend 
1128         riding  by  my  side." 

then  said  Sir  Otes  de  lile, 

"  thou  puttest  thee  in  great  perill 

to  be  slaine,  if  thou  abide." 
1132     Sir  Lybius  said  in  that  while, 

"  I  giue  right  nought  of  thy  wile, 
churle  !  tho  thou  chyde." 

then  spake  Sir  Otes  de  lile, 
1136     &  said,  "  thy  words  be  vile  ! 

churle  was  neuer  my  name  ! 

I  say  to  thee  without  ffayle, 

the  countesse  of  Carlile 
1140         certes  was  my  dame  ; 

The  last  d  has  a  tag  to  it.— F.  *  gentle,  kind.— P. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


457 


"  &  if  I  were  armed  now 
as  well  as  art  thou, 

wee  wold  ffight  in-same. 
1144     or  thou  my  ratch  ffrom  me  reue,1 
we  wold  play,  ere  itt  were  eue, 
a  wonderous  strong  game." 
Sir  Lybius  said  al  soe  2  prest, 
1148     "  goe  fforth  &  doe  thy  best ; 

Thy  ratch  w*'th  mee  shall  wend."    [page  333] 
they  rode  on  right  3  west 
througe  a  deepe  fforrest, 
1152         then  as  the  dwarfFe  them  kend.4 


if  he  were 
armed,  he 
would  fight 
him. 


Lybius  says 
"  I)o  your 
best," 


and  rides  on. 


Sir  Otes  de  lile  in  thai  stower 
rode  home  into  his  Tower, 

&  ffor  his  ffreinds  sent, 
1156     &  told  them  anon-rights 

how  one  of  Arthurs  ~K.nights 

shamely  had  him  sherit, 
&  had  his  ratche  away  Inome.5 
1160     then  the  sayd  all  and  some,6 

that  "  theese  shall  soone  be  tane  ; 
&  neuer  home  shall  hee  come 
tho  he  were  as  grim  a  groome 
1164         as  euer  was  Sir  Grawaine."  7 


Sir  Otcs 


tells  his 
friends 


how  badly 
Lybius  has 
treated  him. 


They  say 
they'll  soon 
take  Lybius. 


they  dight  them  to  armes 
With  gleaues  8  and  gysarmes,9 
as  they  wold  warr  on  take  ; 
1168     Knights  and  squiers 


They  and 
their  friends 
arm, 


1  bereave,  take  away. — P. 

2  alsoe,  MS.— F. 

3  th  is  crossed  out  between  t  and  w. 
— F. 

4  taught,  made  known.    Gl.  Ch. — P. 

5  y-nome,  taken.    Sax.  niman,  to  take, 
hinc  nim,    'Lye. — P. 

6  sone  in  MS.— F. 


7  J>au3  he  were  Jjo^tyere  gome 

Than  Lauwcelot  du  lake. — Cot. 
M.  Hippeau  prints  "thogh  tyer,"  which 
doesn't  look  much  like ' '  doughtier  "  at  first. 
MS.  is  clear,  leaf  50,  col.  2,  1.  5.— F. 

8  gleave,  a  sword,  cutlace,  Fr.  glaive. 
— P.    swerdes. — Cot. 

9  gysarme,  a  halbert  or  Bill.    Sk. — P. 


VOL.  II. 


H  H 


458 

mount, 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

leapt  on  their  disteres 
ffor  their  Lords  sake. 


Lybius 


and  say 
they'll  kill 
him. 


Lybius 


advises 
Hellen 


vpon  a  hill  trulye 
1172     Sir  Lybius  they  can  espye, 
ryding  a  well  good  pace, 
to  him  gan  they  loud  crye, 
&  said,  "  thou  shalt  dye 
1176         ffor  thy  great  trespas  !  " 
Sir  Lybius  againe  beheld 
how  ffull  was  the  ffeild, 

for  many  people  there  was  ; 
1180     he  said  to  Maid  Ellen, 
"  ffor  this  ratch  I  weene 

to  vs  commeth  a  carefull  case. 


to  hide  in 
the  forest. 


He  will 
abide  the 
battle. 


Lybius's  foes 


fire  at  him 
with  bows 


and  wound 
him. 


He  rides 
down  men 
and  horses, 


"  I  rede  thai  yee  withdraw 
1184     yonder  into  the  woods  wawe,1 

yo^r  heads  for  to  hyde  ; 
ffor  here  vpon  this  plaine, 
tho  I  shold  be  slaine, 
1188         the  battell  I  will  abyde." 
into  the  fforrest  the  rode  ; 
and  Sir  Lybius  there  abode 
of  him  what  may  betyde. 

1192     then  the  smote  at  him  with  crossebowes, 
with  speare,  &  with  bowes  turkoys,2 
that  made  him  wounds  wyde. 

Sir  Lybius  with  his  horsse  ran, 
1196     &  bare  downe  horsse  and  man  ; 


1  wode  schawe. — Cot.    wawe  is  used 
in   Chaucer  for  a   wave,   but  that   can 
hardly  be  the  sense,  here. — P.     ?  Waw, 
wall.     Jamieson. — F. 

2  i.  e.     longbowes.       Fr.     Turquois, 


Turkish,  such  as  the  Turks  use.  Grl.  ad 
G.D.— P.  See  Strutt,  p.  66,  ed.  1830. 
— F. 

With  bowe  and  -with  arblaste 
To  hym  they  schote  faste. — Cot. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


459 


1200 


fFor  nothing  wold  he  spare, 
euery  man  said  then 
thai  hee  was  the  ffeend  Sathan 

thai  wold  mankind  fforfare  l  ; 


like  Satan, 


1204 


ffor  he  thai  Sir  Lybius  raught, 
his  death  wound  there  he  caught, 

&  smote  them  downe  by-deene. 
but  anon  he  was  besett, 
as  a  ffish  in  a  nett, 

with  groomes  2  ffell  and  keene  ; 


but  is  beset 


for  12  Knights  verelye 
1208     he  saw  come  ryding  redylye 

in  armes  ffaire  &  bright ; 
all  the  day  they  had  rest, 
for  the  thought  in  the  fforrest 
1212         to  see  Sir  Lybius  that  Knight. 
in  a  sweate  they  were  all  12, — 
one  was  the  LortZ  himselfe 

in  they  3  ryme  to  read  right : — 
1216     they  smote  att  him  all  att  once, 

ffor  they  thought  to  breake  his  bones 
&  ffell  him  downe  in  flight. 


by  twelve 
knights 


who  have 
waited  for 
him, 


and  all 

attack  him 
at  once. 


ffast  together  can  the  ding  ; 
1220     &  round  they  stroakes  he  gan  fninge 
among  them  all  in  fere  ; 

fforsooth  without  Leasing 

the  sparkells  out  gan  springe 
1224         of  sheeld  and  harnesse  4  cleere. 

Sir  Lybius  slew  of  them  3, 

&  4  away  gan  fflee 


Lybius 


kills  three 
of  them ; 
four  flee. 


1  perdere,    perire. 
Lye.— P. 

2  men.— P. 


A.-S.    forfaran.          *  the.— P.     There  is  nothing  of  this 
incident  in  the  French. — F. 

4  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 
H  H  2 


460 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


Sir  Otes  and 
his  four  sons 


And  wold  not  come  him  nere  ; 
1228     the  Lore?  abode  in  that  stoure, 
&  soe  did  his  sonnes  4, 
to  sell  their  lines  deere. 


[page  334] 


strike  at 
Lybius. 


His  blood 
flows, 


his  sword 


Sir  Otes  cuts 
into  his 
head, 


then  they  gaue  l  stroakes  riue,2 
1232     he  one  against  them  5, 

&  ffonght  as  they  were  wood, 
nye  downe  they  gan  him  bring ; 
as  the  water  of  a  Spring 
1236         of  him  ran  the  bloode  ; 

his  sword  brake  by  the  hilte ; 
then  was  he  neere  spilt ; 

he  was  ffull  madd  of  moode. 
1240    the  'Lord  a  stroake  on  him  sett 
through  helme  and  Basnett, 
in  the  skull  itt  stoode. 


and  he 
swoons ; 


but  soon 
he  revives, 


axe, 


and  kills 
three  horses. 


then  in  a  swoone  he  lowted  lowe  ; 
1244     he  leaned  on  his  saddle  bow 

as  a  man  that  was  nye  slake ; 
his  4  sonnes  were  all  a  bowne  3 
ffor  to  perish  4  his  Acton,5 
1248         double  Maile  and  plate  ; 
but  as  he  gan  to  smart, 
againe  he  plucked  vp  6  his  hart, 

as  the  Kinde  7  of  his  estate  ; 
1252     &  soone  he  hent  in  his  ffist 

an  axe  that  hanged  on  his  sadle  crest, 
almost  itt  was  too  late. 

then  he  ffought  as  a  Knight ; 
1256     their  horsses  ffell  downe  right, 


1  gan.— P. 

2  rive,  To  thrust,  stab,   to  rend,  &c. 
Gl.  ad  Ch.— P.     ?  rife,  all  about.— F. 

8  ready.— P. 

*  perce.— Cot.     persyne. — Lam.  MS. 


5  Fr.  Hocqueton.— P. 

6  Vp  he  pullede.— Cot.  (leaf  50,  back, 
col.  2.)     He  pulled  vp.  —Lam. 

7  Four  strokes  for  in  in  the  MS. — F. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


461 


he  slew  att  stroakes  3. 
&  when  the  Lord  saw  the  flight, 
of  his  horsse  a-downe  gan  light,1 
1260         away  hee  ffast  gan  fflee. 

Sir  Lybius  noe  longer  abode, 
but  after  him.  fFast  he  rode, 

&  vnder  a  chest  of  tree  2 
1264     there  he  had  him  killed  ; 
but  the  Lord  him  yeelded 

att  his  will  flbr  to  bee, 


Sir  Otcs 
llecs ; 


Lybius 
ciitches  him, 


and  Sir  Otcs 
yields  up 
himself 


&  ffor  to  yeeld  him  his  stent,3 
1268     treasure,  Land,  and  rent, 

Castle,  hall,  &  tower. 
Sir  Lybius  consented  therto 
in  4  fforward  that  he  wold  goe 
1272         vnto  King  Arthur, 

&  say,  "  Lord  of  great  renowne  ! 
in  battell  I  am  ouerthrowne  ; 

&  sent  thee  to  honor." 
1276     the  Lord  granted  theretill, 
ffor  to  doe  all  his  will. 

they  went  home  to  his  tower, 

&  anon  Maiden  Ellen 
1280     with  knights  ffiueteene 

was  ffeitched  into  the  Castle, 
shee  &  the  dwarffe  by-deene 
told  of  his  deeds  Keene, 
1284         &  how  that  itt  befell 
that  hee  had  presents  5  4 
sent  vnto  ~K.ing  Arthur, 


and  all  his 
lands  and 
goods, 


and  agrees  to 
go  to  King 
Arthur 


and  honour 
him. 


They  go  to 
Sir  Otes's 
castle. 
Hcllen  is 
brought 
there, 


and  tells  Sir 

Otes 

that  he  is 

Lybius's 

fourth 

present  to 

Arthur. 


1  And  on  hys  courser  ly?t. — Cot.  his    measure,   his   quantity,   his   share. 

2  a  chesten  tree,  i.  e.  a  Chesnut  Tree.       — P.     be  sertayne  extante. — Cot. 

4  MS.  him.— F.     in.— Cot. 

5  presentes. — Cot.    persones. — Lam. 


Sic    legerim.   vid.   Gl.    ad    Chauc. — P. 
chesteyn. — Cot.     chesteyne. — Lam. 
8  his  stint,  apud  Salopienscs,  signifies 


462 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


Lybius 


recovers 
from  his 
wounds 


and  rides  on 

towards 

Sinadon. 


Sir  Otes  goes 
to  Arthur, 


thai  he  had  woone  flull  well. 
1288     the  ~Lord  was  glad  &  blythe, 
&  thanked  god  often  sithe, 
&  alsoe  S*  Michall,1 

that  such  a  noble  -Knight 
1292-    shold  flbr  that  Ladye  flight 

that  was  soe  fi'aire  and  ffree. 
in  the  towne  dwelled  a  ~Knight : 
att  the  ffull  ffbrtnight 

^r  Lybyus  2  there  gan  bee, 


1296 


1300 


1304 


1308 


and  tellsbim 
how  Lybius 
beat  him. 


1312 


&  did  heale  him.  of  his  wounds 
bothe  hole  and  sound 

by  the  6  weekes  end. 
then  S*r  Lybius  and  his  May 
rode  fibrthe  on  their  way, 

to  Sinadon  to  wend  ; 
and  alsoe  the  Lord  of  that  tower 
went  vnto  ~King  Arthur, 

&  prisoner  him  did  yeeld, 
&  told  how  a  "Knight  younge 
in  flighting  had  him  woone, 

&  ouercome  him  in  the  fieeld ; 

&  said,  "  ~Lord  of  great  renowne  ! 
I  am  in  battell  brought  a-downe 

with  a  "Knight  soe  bolde." 
King  Arthur  had  good  game, 
&  soe  had  they  all  in-same 

that  heard  that  tale  soe  told.3 


[page  335] 


1  The  Cotton  text   omits  the  rest  of 
this  part.      The   French   of  the  whole 
part  is  very  different. — F. 

2  One  stroke  too  many  for  u  in  the 
MS.     There  means,  I  suppose,  the  house 
of  the  knight  of  1.  1294.     The  Lambeth 
MS.  has: 

Lybeous  a  fourtenyght 
Then  with  him  came  lende, 


He  did  helen  his  wounde, 
And  made  him  hole  and  sownde. 
Corresponding  nearly  with  our  text. — F. 
8  The  French  puts  in  here  its  tale  of 
the  Falcon  or  Sparrow-hawk,  which  M. 
Hippeau  summarises  thus,  p.  x. : 

L'Inconnu,  Eobert,  Helie,  et  son  nail. 
aper90ivent,  en  sortant  du  bois  [where 
Lybius  has  vanquished  VOrguillous  de 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


463 


[The  Sixth  Part.] 

[Lybius's  Adventure  at  the  He  Dore.] 
"Now  let  vs  rest  awhile 
1316         of  Sir  Otes  de  lile, 

&  tell  wee  other  tales. 
S*r  Lybius  rode  many  a  mile, 
6*.  parte  J  sawe  !  aduentures  many  &  vile 
1320  in  England  2  &  in  Wales, 

till  itt  beffell  in  the  monthe  of  June, 
when  the  ffenell 3  hangeth  in  the  towne 
_     all  greene  in  seemlye  manner,4 
1324         The  midsumwer5  day  is  ffaire  &  long  ; 
merry  is  the  ffoules  songe, 

the  notes  of  birds  on  bryar  6  ; 


Lybius  sees 
adventures 


in  England 
and  Wales. 


On  Mid 
summer  day 


la  Landc,  our  Sir  Otes],  un  castel  d'ou 
descend,  pour  venir  a  leur  rencontre, 
une  dame  richement  vetue  et  d'une 
beaute  ravissante.  Elle  leur  apprend 
que  celui  qu'elle  aimait  a  ete  tue  par  un 
chevalier  redoutable  qui  habite  le  cha- 
teau.  La  se  trouve,  dit-elle,  un  epervier 
perche  sur  un  baton  d'or.  La  damoi- 
selle  qui  pourra  s'en  emparer  sera  pro- 
clamee  la  plus  belle;  mais  elle  clevra 
se  faire  accompagner  par  un  chevalier 
assez  hardi  pour  oser  se  mesurer  avec  lo 
maitre  de  1' epervier-.  La  pauvre  damoi- 
selle,  desireuse  d'obtenir  le  prix  de  la 
beaute,  avait  conduit  a  ce  chateau  son 
ami  qui  avait  succombe  dans  une  lutte 
inegale.  "Je  le  vengerai,  et  vous  serez 
reconnue  comme  la  plus  belle ! "  dit 
I'lnconnu,  qui  trouve  1'occasion  d'un 
nouveau  triomphe.  Gifflet,  le  fits 
d'O,  est  terrasse  an  eiFet;  et,  comme 
I'lnconnu  apprend  que  la  jeune  fille 
pour  laquelle  il  vient  de  se  battre  est 
Marguerie,  la  fille  du  roi  d'Ecosse,  Ago- 
lant,  il  1'a  fait  conduire  chez  son  pere 
par  un  chevalier  dont  la  valeur  et  la 
loyaute  sont  eprouvees.  Helie  recon- 
nait  en  elle  sa  cousine ;  elle  lui  fait  de 
tendres  adieux.  "Je  ne  sais,"  dit-elle 
avec  sensibilite,  "  si  jamais  je  vous  re- 


verrai,  mais  je  vous  aimcrai  toujours  !  " 

1  One  stroke  too  many  for  the  w  in 
the  MS.— F. 

2  Among  aventurus  fyle 

In  Yrland.— Cot. 
and  sey  awntours  the  while 
and  [in]  Irlande. — Lam. 
Vile  =  fele,  numerous. — F. 
3  ccrfitte  and  finule    Chervil  &  fennel 
fela  mihtigu  twa         Two  very*  mighty 

(ones) 

These  worts  formed 
(The)  wit-fulf  Lord 
Holy  in  heavens 
Them  he  set  hung 
up  | 
And  sent  to  the  7 

worlds 
For  the  poor  &  the 


>a  wyrte  gesceop 
witig  drihten 
halig  on  heofenum 
\>a,  he  hongode  sette 

and  ssende  on  vii. 

worulde 
earmum  and   eadi- 


gum 
eallum  to  bote. 


rich 
For  a  remedy  §  for 

all. 
Leechdoms,  iii.  34-7,  ed.  Cockayne. 

4  P.  has   added   an   e  to  the  r. — F. 
. — Cot.     saale. — Lam. 

5  One  stroke  too  few  in  the  MS.— F. 

6  briere. — P. 

As  notes  of  the  nyjtyngales. — Cot. 
And  notis  of  the  nyghtyngale. — Lam. 


*  fair  and.— Cockayne, 
t  Wise  he  and  witty  is.— C. 


}  he  suspended. — C. 
§  Panacea.— C. 


464 

Lybius 


sees  a  fair 
city, 


which 
Hellen 
tells  him 


is  He  d'Ore, 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

Sir  Lybius  then  gan  ryde 
1328     along  by  a  riuer  side, 
&  saw  a  ffaire  Oitye 
with  pauillyons  of  much  pride, 
&  a  castle  ffaire  &  wyde, 
1332         and  gates  great  plentye. 

he  asked  ffast  what  itt  hight : 
the  maid  said  anon-right, 

"  Sir,  I  will  tell  thee  ; 
1336     men  clepeth  itt  He  dore ; l 

there  hath  beene  slaine  Knights  more 
then  beene  in  this  countrye 


and  that  a 
lovely  lady 
is  kept  there 


by  the  giant 
Mangys, 


to  whom 
every  knight 
must  bow, 
and  lay  down 
his  armour. 


"  ffor  a  Ladye  that  is  of  price, 
1340     her  coulour  is  red  as  rose  on  rise.2 

all  this  cuntry  is  in  doubt 
ffor  a  Gyant  that  hight  Mangys,3 
there  is  noe  more  such  theeues  ! 4 
1344         that  ~L&dye  hee  lyeth  about ; 

he  is  heathen,  as  blacke  as  pitch ; 
now  there  be  no  more  such 
of  deeds  strong  &  stout ; 
1348     what  "Knight  that  passeth  this  brigg, 
his  armes  he  must  downe  ligg, 
&  to  the  gyant  Lout.5 


1352 


"  he  is  20  6  ffoote  of  lenght, 
&  much  more  of  strenght 


1  Isle  Dor,  Fr.  Yledor.— Cot.  II- 
deore. — Lam.  The  French  has  a  long 
description  of  the  Castle,  but  nothing 
about  the  giant  Mangys.  It  is  a  knight, 
Malgiers  li  Gris  (p.  77),  who  there  de 
fends  the  entrance  to  the  castle  ;  and  if  he 
conquers  every  comer  for  seven  years 
(or  nine  according  to  M.  Hippeau)  he  is 
to  wed  La  Dame  aux  blanches  Mains. 
The  knight  has  killed  143  opponents, 


and  cut  their  heads  off  (p.  71,  1.  1985), 
when  he  is  overcome  by  Lybius. — F. 

2  sprig,  twig,  shrub,  Jun.  Lye. — P. 

8  Maungys. — Cot. 

4  Nowhere  hys  pere  ther  nys. — Cot. 
Nowhere  is  non  suche. — Lam. 

5  MS.  Cot.  omits  the  next  twelve  lines. 
— F. 

6  thirty. — Lam. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


465 


then  other  Knights  ffiue. 
Sir  Lybius  !  now  l  bethinke  thee, 
hee  is  more  grimmner  ffor  to  see 
1356         then  any  one  aliue  ;  2 

he  beareth  haires  on  his  brow 
like  the  bristles  of  a  sow  ; 

his  head  is  great  &  stout  3  ; 
1360     eche  arme  is  the  lenght  of  an  ell, 
his  ffists  beene  great  &  ffell, 
dints  ffor  to  driue  about." 


She  warns 
Lybius  not 
to  fight  him. 


Sir  Lybius  said,  "  maiden  hend  ! 
1364     on  our  way  wee  will  wend 
ffor  all  his  stroakes  ill. 
if  god  will  me  grace  send, 
or  this  day  come  to  an  end 
1368         I  hope  him  ffor  to  spill.4 
tho  I  be  young  &  lite,5 
I  will  him  sore  smyte, 

&  let  god  doe  his  will. 
1372     I  beseech  god  almight 

that  I  may  soe  with  him  ffight, 
that  giant  6  ffor  to  kill." 


Lybius  says 


that  by 
God's  help 
he'll  kill 
him  before 
the  day  ends. 


then  they  rode  fforth  all  3 
1376     vnto  that  ffaire  cytye, 

men  call  itt  He  dore  7  ; 
anon  Mangy  can  they  see 
vpon  a  bridge  of  tree, 
1380         as  grimm  as  any  bore  ; 


Near 


He  d'Ore 

they  seo 
Mangys 


1  well. — Lam. 

2  That  tliou  with  him  ne  macched  bee, 

He  is  gryme  to  Discryue. — Lam. 

8  grete  as  an  byre. — Cot. 

4  Cot.  inserts  here  : 

I  have  y-seyn  grete  okes 
Falle  fore  wyndes  strokes, 


)>e  smale  hau  stonde  stylle, 
and  omits   the   last  three  lines  of  the 
stanza.     Lam.  does  the  same,  altering 
the  words  a  little. — F. 

5  lite,  little.— P. 

8  MS.  grant. — F.     giant,  qu. — P. 

7  Ylledore.— Cot.     Iledolowr. — Lam. 


466 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


with  a  black 
shield, 


a  spear 
and  sword. 


1384 


his  sheild  was  blacke  as  ter  l  ; 
his  paytrill,2  his  crouper,3 

3  mammetts  4  there-in  were  ; 
the  were  gaylye  gilt  w^'th  gold ; 
&  a  spere  in  his  hand  he  did  hold, 

&  alsoe  his  sword  in  ffere. 


Mangys  asks 
Lybius  who 
he  is, 

and  advises 
him  to  turn 
back. 


Lybius 


refuses. 


He  cryed  to  him  in  despite, 
1388     &  said,  "  ffellow,  I  thee  quite  !  5 
now  what  thou  art,  mee  tell ; 
&  turne  againe  al  soe  6  tyte 
ffor  thine  owne  proffitt, 
1392         if  thou  loue  thy  selfe  well." 
Sir  Lybius  said  anon-right, 
"  ~King  Arthur  made  me  a  Knight. 

vnto  him  I  made  my  vow 
1396     thai  I  shold  neuer  turne  my  backe 
ffor  noe  such  devill  in  blacke. 
goe  !  make  thee  readye  now  !  " 


[page  336] 


They  charge 


(Lord?  and 


Now  Sir  Lybius  &  Mangys, 
1 400     Of  horsses  7  proud  of  price 

together  they  rode  full  right ; 
both  Lords  &  Ladyes  there 
Lay  on  pount  tornere  8 
1404         to  see  that  seemlye  sight, 


1  tar. — F.     perhaps  as  Aster,  Haster, 
or  Aster  is  a  word  still  used  in  Shrop- 
shire,  signifying  the  back  of  the  chimney. 
"As  black  as  the  Haster"  is  a  common 
expression  with  them. — P.     pych. — Cot. 
pycche. — Lam.      The    French    knight's 
shield    is    Sinople,    greene    colour    (in 
Blazon). — Cotgrare : 

Les  escus  a  sinople  estoit, 

Et  mains  blances  parmi  avoit  (p.  73). — F. 

2  Poitrel,  peytTe\,antilena :  The  breast- 
armour  for  a  horse.     Jun. — P. 

3  croupere.— P. 

4  Mammet,    a   puppet,   an   Image,   a 


false-god.      Jun. — P.      One   stroke  too 
many  in  the  MS. — F. 

5  Say,   J?ou  felaw  yn  whyt. — Cot.   & 
Lam. 

6  MS.  alsoe.— F. 

7  On  Horses. — P.  On  stedes. — Cot.  & 
Lam. 

8  ?  Pont   Tornere,  the    name  of  the 
bridge.- -F. 

Leyn  out  yn  poroet  tours. — Cot. 

Laynen  in  her  toures. — Lam. 

The  French  text  brings  them  all  out 
of  the  castle,  except  La  Dame  aux 
blanches  Mains. — F. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 

&  prayed  to  god  loud  &  still, 
"  if  that  itt  were  his  will, 

to  helpe  that  cristyan  Knight ; 
1408     &  the  vile  Gyaunt 

that  beleeueth  in  Termagant, 

that  he  might  dye  in  flight !  " 

theire  speres  brake  assunder, 
1412     their  stroakes  flared  as  the  thunder,1 

the  peeces  gan  out  spring, 
euery  man  had  great  wonder 
that  S/r  Lybius  had  not  beene  vnder 
1416         att  the  fiirst  begininge. 

anon  they  drew  sords  bothe  ; 
as  men  that  were  fiull  wrothe, 

together  gan  they  dinge  : 
1420     Sir  Lybius  smote  Mangyes  thoe 
that  his  sheild  ffell  him  ffroe, 
in  the  ffbild  he  gan  itt  filing. 

Mangyes  gan  smite  in  that  stead 
1424     Sz'r  Lybius  horse  on  the  head, 

&  dashed  out  his  braine  ; 
his  horsse  fell  downe  dyinge. 
Sir  Lybius  sayd  nothing, 
1428         but  start  vp  againe  ; 

an  axe  in  his  hand  he  hent  anon 
that  hunge  on  his  sadle  arson,2 

&  smote  a  stroake  of  maine 
1432     through  Mangis  horsse  swire,3 

carued  him  throug  long  4  &  liuer,5 
&  quitt  him  well  againe. 


467 

pray  that 


Lybius  may 

kill 

Mangys). 


Their  spears 
break ; 


they  draw 
their 
swords : 


Lybius  cuts 
away 
Manjjrys's 
shield  ; 


Mangys  kills 

Lybius's 

horse, 


and  Lybius 


kills  his. 


1  The  first  part  of  thunder  is  blotted 
in  the  MS. — F.    donder.— Cot.    thonder. 
— Lam. 

2  ar^on.  Fr.     i.e.  saddle  bow. — P. 

3  swire,  swere,  the  neck.     Gl.  ad  Ch. 
—P. 


4  through  lung.  —  P. 

5  P.  has  added  an   e  to   the  end 


of 


fore-karf  bon  and  lyre.  —  Cot. 
forkarve  bone  and  Ivre.  —  Lam. 


468 

Then  each 


wounds  the 
other  badly, 


and  they 
fight  from 
six  to 
evensong. 


Lybius  asks 
leave  to  get 
some  drink. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

descriue  the  stroakes  cold  no  man 
1436     that  were  giuen  betwene  them  then  ; 
1  to  bedd  peace  was  no  boote  thoe  ; 
deepe  wounds  there  they  caught, 
ffor  they  both  sore  Sought, 
1440         &  either  was  others  ffoe. 
ffro  :  the  hower  of  prime 
till  it  was  euensong  time, 

they  ffought  together  thoe. 
1444     Sir  Lybius  thirsted  then  sore, 
&  sayd,  "  Mangyes,  thine  ore  2  ! 
to  drinke  lett  me  goe ; 


"  &  I  will  grant  to  thee, 
1448     what  loue  3  thou  biddest  mee, 
such  happe  if  thee  betyde. 
great  shame  itt  wold  bee 
a  JLnight  ffor  thirst  shold  dye, 
1452         &  to  thee  litle  pryde." 


Mangys 
gives  it  him, 


but  as  he 
lies  down 
drinking 

Mangys 
knocks  him 
into  the 
river. 

Lybius  gets 
out, 


Mangies  granted  him  his  will, 
ffor  to  drinke  his  mil 

without  any  more  despite. 
1456     as  S^'r  Lybius  lay  ouer  the  banke, 
through  his  helme  he  dranke  ; 

Mangyes  gan  him  smite 
that  into  the  riuer  he  goes. 
1460     but  vp  anon  he  rose  ; 

wonderffull  he  was  dight 
with  his  armour  euery  deale  ; 
"now  by  S!  Micaheel 
1464         I  am  twise  as  light ! 


1  It  was  no  boot  then  to  bid  (propose) 
peace.— P.  Cot,  and  Lam.  have  differ 
ent  lines. — F. 


2  mercy. — F. 

3  bone.— C.  &  Lam. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


469 


what  weenest  thout  fieend  fere  ? 
that  I  vnchirstened  were 

or  thou  saw  itt  with  sight  ? 

1468      I  shall,  ffor  thy  baptise,  [page  337] 

well  qu[i]tte  thee  thy  service, 

by  the  grace  of  god  almight." 
a  new  battell  there  began  ; 
1472      either  ffast  to  other  ran, 

&  stroakes  gaue  with  might, 
there  was  many  a  gentleman, 
and  alsoe  Ladyes  as  white  as  swan, 
1476          they  prayed  all  ffor  the  Knight. 


and  tells 
Mangya 


he'll  pay 
him  out. 


They  fight 
again ; 


1480 


but  Mangis  anon  in  the  ffeild 
earned  assunder  Sir  Lybius  sheild 

with  stroakes  of  armes  great, 
then  Sir  Lybius  rann  away 
thither  were  Mangis  sheild  Lay ; 

&  vp  he  can  itt  gett, 


Mangya 
cuts  Lybius' a 

shield  in 
two. 


Lybius  gets 
Mangys's 
shield ; 


&  ran  againe  to  him  l  ; 
1484      with  stroakes  great  and  grim 
together  they  did  assayle  ; 
there  beside  the  watter  brimne 
till  it  waxed  wonderous  dimm, 
1488          betweene  them  lasted  that  battell.2 
Sir  Lybius  was  warryour  wight, 
&  smote  a  stroke  of  much  might ; 

through  hawberke,3  plate  and  maile, 
1492      hee  smote  of  by  the  shoolder  bone 
his  right  arme  soone  and  anon 
into  the  ffeild  with- out  ffaile. 


and  they 
fight  on" 


till  Lybius 


cuts  off 
Mangys'a 
right  arm. 


1  One  stroke  too  many  in  MS. — F. 

2  battayle.— P. 


3  coat  of  mail,  thro'  plate  $  mail,  is 
used  both  by  Milton  &  Spencer. — P. 


470 

Mangys 


Lybius 
pursues  him, 
and  cuts  his 
back  in  two, 


and  his  head 
off. 


Lybius  goes 
into  the 
town, 


and  is 
received  by 
the  beautiful 
Madam  de 
Armoroure, 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

1  when  the  gyant  thai  gan  see 
1496      that  he  shold  slaine  bee, 

hee  ffled  with  much  maine. 
Sir  Lybius  after  him  gan  hye, 
&  with  strong  stroakes  mightye 
1500          smote  his  backe  in  twaine. 
thus  was  the  Gyant  dead  : 
Sir  Lybius  smote  of  his  head  ; 
then  was  the  people  ffaine.2 
1504      Sir  Lybius  bare  the  head  to  the  towne  ; 
the  mett  him  with  a  fiaire  procession, 
the  people  came  him  againe. 

a  Ladye  white  as  the  Lyllye  mower, 
1508      hight  Madam  de  Armoroure,3 

receiued  that  gentle  Knight, 
&  thanked  him  in  that  stoure 


1  The  Ashmole  MS.  61  reads  : 
Tho  gyante  gane  to  se 

That  sleyne  schuld  [he]  be : 

He  stode  to  fense  A-3eyne, 
And  at  J>e  secuwd  stroke 
Syre  lybeus  to  hyra  smote, 

And  brake  hys  Arme  in  tweyne. 
The  gyante  ]>er  he  leuyd, 
lybeus  smote  of  hys  hede, 

There-of  he  was  full  feyne  ; 
He  bore  >e  hed  in-to  J>e  toune. 
W«tA  A  feyre  pwsessyouw 

The  folke  come  hym  A-3ene. 
That  lady  was  whyte  As  flowre 
That  men  callyd  denamowre. 

&c.  &c. 

2  glad. — P.     And  of  J>e  batayle  was 
fayn. — Cot. 

8 .  The  French  text  has  a  glowing  des 
cription  of  the  lady's  beauty  (p.  78-9) : 
Sa  biaute  tel  clarte  jeta, 
Quant  ele  ens  le  palais  entra, 
Com  la  lune  qu'ist  de  la  nue  .  .   .  % 
Plus  estoit  blance  d'une  flor, 
Et  d'une  vermelle  color 
Estoit  sa  face  enluminee : 
Moult  estoit  bele  et  colored. 
Les  oels  ot  vair,  boce  riant, 


Le  cors  bien  faict  et  avenant ; 

Les  levres  avoit  vermelletes, 
[one  Line  wanting  in  the  MS.] 

Boce  bien  faite  por  baisier, 

Et  bras  bien  fais  por  embracer. 

Mains  ot  blances  com  flors  de  lis, 

Et  la  gorges,  desous  le  vis. 

Cors  ot  bien  fait,  et  le  cief  blont ; 

Onques  si  bele  n'ot  el  mont. 

Ele  estoit  d'un  samit  vestue, 

Onques  si  bele  n'ot  sous  nue, 

La  pene  en  fu  moult  bien  ouvr£e 

D'ermine  tote  eschekeree ; 

Moult  sont  bien  fait  li  eschekier, 

Li  orles  fu  mout  a  prisier ; 

Et  deriere  ot  ses  crins  jetes ; 

D'un  fil  d'or  les  ot  galones. 

De  roses  avoit  i  capel 

Moult  avenant  et  gent  et  bel ; 

D'un  afremail  son  col  frema, 

Quant  ele  ens  el  palais  entra. 

Molt  i  ot  gente  damoisele, 

Onques  nus  horn  ne  vit  tant  bele. 

La  dame  entre  el  palais  riant, 

Al  Desconneu  vint  devant  .  . 
There   is  a  further  description   of  her 
in  her  cemise  at  p.  84-5. — F. 

4  la  dame  damore. — Cot. 
la  dame  Amoure. — Lam. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


471 


that  liee  wold  her  succour 
1512  against  that  ffeend  to  flight. 

into  the  chamber  shee  him  ledd, 
&  in  purple  &  pall  shee  him  cledtl, 

&  in  rich  royall  weede  ; 
1516      &  profferred  him  with  honor 

ffor  to  be  lord  of  towne  &  tower, 
&  her  owne  selfe  to  meede. 


who  clothes 
him  in 
purple, 


and  offers 
him  her 
lands  and 
herself. 


Sir  Lybius  ffrened  1  her  in  hast, 
1520      &  loue  to  her  anon  he  cast, 

ffor  shee  was  ffaire  and  sheene. 
alas,  that  hee  had  not  beene  chast ! 
ffor  afterwards  att  the  Last 
1524  shee  did  him  betray  &  teene.2 

12  monthes  and  more 
Sir  Lybius  tarry ed  thore,3 

&  his  mayden  with  renowne, 
1528      that  he  might  neuer  out  scape 
ffor  to  helpe  &  ffor  to  wrake 4 
the  Ladye  of  Sinadone  ; 

ffor  that  ffaire  Lady 

1532      told5  more  of  Sorcery 

then  such  other  fnue  ; 
shee  made  him  great  melodye, 
of  all  manner  of  minstrelsye 

1536  that  any  man  cold  discreeue. 


He  gives  her 
his  love, 


but  she 
betrays  him 
at  last. 
Lybins  stays 
twelve 
months 
there, 


beguiled  by 
the  Lady's 
sorcery, 


1  asked. — P.     grantede.— Cot. 

2  enrage,  vex,  grieve,  Grl.  ad  G-.D. 

N.B.  This  does  not  appear  from  any 
thing  which  follows  in  this  Ballad :  un 
less  it  be  her  detaining  him  by  her 
enchantments  in  these  stanzas. — P. 

•  there :  so  in  Chauc.— P.  The  French 
Romance  keeps  Lybius  only  a  night  in 
the  castle.  The  Lady  comes  to  him  in 
her  chemise,  leans  on  his  breast : 

Ses  mameles  et  sa  poitrine 

Furent  blances  comme  flora  d'espine ; 


Se  li  ot  desus  son  pis  mis.  (p.  85-6.) 
She  desires  his  love.  He  wants  to 
kiss  her,  but  she  draws  back,  as  that 
would  be  lechery  till  he  had  married 
her,  and  leaves  his  room.  He  has 
troubled  dreams,  thinking  he  holds  her 
all  night  in  his  arms,  and  next  morning 
he  resolutely  rides  away,  but  returns  after 
freeing  the  Lady  of  Sinadowne. — F. 

4  wreak,  i.e.  revenge. — P. 

5  for  cold,  knew.— F. 


472 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


for,  when 

looking  on 

her, 

he  thinks 

himself  in 

Paradise. 


1540 


when  lie  looked  on  her  fface, 

him  thought  certainly  e  that  hee  was 

in  paradice  aline, 
with  ffantasye  and  fayiye ; 
&  shee  bleared  his  eye 

with  ffalse  sorcerye. 


At  last, 
Hellen  meets 
him, 

and 

reproaches 

him 

•with  his 
faithlessness 
to  Arthur 


and  the  Lady 
of  Sinadon. 


Lybius  is 
touched  to 
the  heart, 


and  they 
ride  off  that 
night. 


Lybius 


makes  Sir 
Geffelett  his 
steward, 


1544 


1548 

Parted 


[The  Seventh  Part.] 

till  itt  beffell  vpon  a  day 
he  mett  with  Ellen  that  may 

betwene  the  Castle  and  the  tower  ; 
Then  vnto  him  shee  gan  say, 
"  thou  art  ffalse  of  thy  ffay l 

vnto  King  Arthur ! 
ffor  the  loue  of  that  Ladye 
that  can  soe  much  curtesye, 

thou  doest  thee  dishonor ! 
1552     My  Ladye  of  Sinadon 
may  long  lye  in  prison, 
&  that  is  great  dolour !  " 

Sir  Lybius  hard  her  speake, 
1556     him  thought  his  hart  wold  breake 

ffor  sorrow  &  ffor  shame, 
att  a  posterne  there  beside 
.by  night  they  gan  out  ryde 
1560         ffrom  that  gentle  dame. 

hee  tooke  With  him  his  good  steede, 
his  sheeld  &  his  best  weede, 
&  rode  fforth  all  in-same ; 
1564     &  the  2  steward  stout  in  ffere, 
he  made  him  his  Squier, 

Sir  Geffelett 3  was  his  name. 


1  faith.— P.        2  Her.— Cot.    Hir.—Lam.        3  Gtyfflet.— Cot.     Gurflete.— Lam. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


473 


they  rode  fforth  on  their  way, 
1568     but  lightly  on  their  lourney, 

on  bay  horsses  and  browne  ; 
till  itt  beffell  vpon  a  day 
they  saw  a  Citye  ffaire  and  gay, 
1572         men  call  itt  Sinadowne,1 
with  a  Castle  hye  &  wyde, 
and  pauillyons  of  much  pride 
tliat  were  of  ffaire  ffashyon. 
1576     then  said  Sir  Lybius 

"  I  haue  2  great  wonder  of  an  vse 
that  he  saw  3  in  the  towne  ;  " 

they  gathered  dirt  &  mire  ffull  ffast 
1580     w/i/ch  beffore  was  out  cast,4 

they  gathered  in  I-wis. 
Sir  Lybius  said  in  hast, 
"  tell  me  now,  mayd  chast, 
1584         what  betokeneth  this  ? 

they  take  in  all  their  hore  5 
that  was  cast  out  beffore  ! 

methinke  they  doe  amisse." 
1588     then  sayd  Mayd  Ellen, 

"  Sir  Lybius,  without  Leasing 
I  will  tell  thee  why  itt  is. 

"there  is  no  ~SLing  soe  well  arrayed, 

1592     tho  he  had  before  payd, 

that  there  shold  take  ostell,6 
ffor  a  dread  of  a  steward 
that  men  call  Sir  Lamberd  ; 

1596         he  is  the  constable  of  the  Castle. 


and  they 
ride  on 


till  they 
sec  Sina 
downe. 


Lybius  asks 
why  they  arc 


drawing  in  to 

tho  city  the 
dirt  that 
was  before 
cast  out  of 
it: 


What  does 
it  mean  'i 


Hellen 

answers 


that  no  one 
can  lodge 
there 


for  fear  of 
Sir  Lamberd. 


1  synadowne. — Cot.  Lam.      La    Cite 
Gaste  is  the  French  name  of  Sinadowne  ; 
but    this    preliminary   castle   is   called 
Galigans. — F. 

2  He  had  (or). 

3  I  see. — P.     The  Cotton  MS.  reads : 

But  lybeaus  desconus 

VOL.  II.  I   I 


He  hadde  wonders  of  an  vus 
)>at  he  saw  do  yn  tonne. 

4  For  gore,  and  fen,  and  full  wast, 
That  there  was  out  y-kast. — Cot. 

5  Sax.  horh,  fimus,  scruta,    phlegma. 
limus,  Bens.  Voc. — P. 

6  Fr.  hostel,  hospitium,  Domus. — P. 


474 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


If  Lybius 
asks  for 
lodging, 


Lamberd 
will  joust 
•with  him ; 


1600 


but  ride  into  the  Castle  gate, 
&  aske  thine  inne  theratt 

both  ffaire  and  well ; 
&  or  he  bidd  thee  nede, 
lusting  he  will  thee  bedd, 

by  god  &  by  S^  Michaell ! 


and  if 

Lamberd 

wins, 


all  the 

people  in  the 
town  will 
throw  dirt 
on  Lybius ; 

and  unless 
he  fights, 


he'll  be 
called  a 
coward. 


"  &  if  he  beare  thee  downe, 
1604     his  trumpetts  l  shalbe  bowne, 

their  beaugles  2  ffor  to  blow ; 
then  ouer  all  this  towne, 
both  mayd  &  garsowne  3 
1608         but  dirt  on  thee  shall  throwe  ; 
&  but  thou  thither  wend, 
ynto  thy  Hues  end 

cowarde  thou  shalt  be  know  ; 
1612     &  soe  may  King  Arthur 
losse  all  his  great  honor 
for  thy  deeds  slowe  !  " 


Lybius  says 
he'll  fight 
Lamberd 


and  free  the 
lady. 


He  and  his 
squire  ride 
to  the 
Castle, 


Sir  Lybius  sayd,  "  that  were  despite  ! 
1616     thither  I  will  goe  ffull  tyte, 

if  I  be  man  on  Hue  ; 
ffor  to  doe  Arthurs  delight, 
&  to  make  that  Lady  quite, 
1620         to  him  I  will  driue. 

Sir  Geffelett,  make  thee  ready, 
&  lett  vs  now  goe  hastilye, 

anon  that  wee  were  bowne." 
1624     they  rode  fforth  on  their  gate 

till  they  came  4  to  the  Castle  gate 
That  was  of  great  renowne, 


[page  339] 


1  Trumpetters. — P. 

2  bugles,  hunting  horns  ;  from  bugle, 


3  Fr.  Gar9on,  Boy.— P. 

4  cane  in  the  MS. — F. 


a  wild  bull,  Lye.— P. 


LIBIU3   DISCONIUS. 


475 


&  there  they  asked  Ostell 
1628     in  that  ffaire  Castell 

ffor  a  venturous  knight, 
the  porter  ffaire  &  well 
lett  them  in  ffull  snell, 
1032         &  asked  anon-right, 

"  who  is  your  gouernor  ?  " 
they  sayd,  "  King  Arthur, 

a  man  of  much  might. 
1636     to  be  a  king  he  is  worthye, 

he  is  the  mower  of  Chiualrye, 
his  ffone  to  ffell  in  flight." 


and  ask  for 
lodging. 


The  porter 


asks  who 
their 
Governor  is. 

"  King 
Arthur, 


the  flower  of 
chivalry ! " 


the  porter  went  without  ffable 
1640     to  his  lord  the  Constable, 

&  this  tale  him  told : 
"  S/r,  without  any  ffable, 
of  Arthurs  round  table 
1644         be  comen  2  knights  bold, 
the  one  is  armed  ffull  sure 
with  rich  &  royall  armoure, 

w*th  3  Lyons  of  gold." 
1648     the  LonZ  was  gladd  &  blythe, 
&  said  to  them  ffull  swythe, 
lust  w&th  them  hee  wold  : 


The  porter 


tells 
Lainberd 


that  two  of 
Arthur's 
knights  havo 
come. 


Lainberd 
says  they 


"  bidd  them  make  them  yare  l 
1652     into  the  ffeeld  ffor  to  ffare 
without  the  Castle  gate." 

the  porter  wold  not  stent,2 

but  euen  anon  went 
1656         to  them  lightly e  att  the  yate, 

&  sayd  anon-rightes, 

"  yee  aduenturous  knights, 


are  to  get 
ready  to 
fight. 


The  porter 


tells  them 


1  ready,  Sax.  Gearwe. — P.     se  gearwa,  Bosworth.—  F. 

ii  2 


2  stint,  stop.— P. 


476 


LIBIUS   DISCONITJS. 


ffor  nothing  that  yee  Lett ; 
1660     Looke  your  sheelds  be  good  &  strong, 
&  your  speres  good  and  long, 
sheild,  plate,  &  Basnett, 


to  ride  into 
the  field, 
and  his 
lord  will 
fight  them. 


They  ride  in, 
and  wait  for 

Lamberd, 


"  &  ryde  you  into  the  ffeild ; 
1664     my  Lord  w^'th  speare  and  sheild 

anon  with  you  will  play." 
Sir  Lybius  spake  words  bold, 
&  said,  "  this  tale  is  well  told, 
1668         &  pleasant  to  my  pay.1  " 
into  the  feld  the  rode, 
&  boldlye  there  abode 
in  their  best  array.2 
1672     S[ir]  Lamberd  armed  ffull  weele 
both  in  Iron  and  in  steele 
that  was  both  stout  &  gay  ; 


whose  shield 


is  black, 


his  armour 
too. 


Two  squires 
attend  him, 


his  sheeld  was  sure  &  ffine, 
1676     3  bores  heads  was  therin 

as  blacke  as  brond  brent,3 
the  bordure  was  of  rich  armin, — 
there  was  none  soe  quent 4  a  ginn  5 
1680         ffrom  Carlile  into  Kent, — 
&  of  the  same  paynture 
was  his  paytrell  &  his  armoure. 
in  lande  where  euer  he  went, 
1684     2  squiers  w^th  him  did  ryde, 
&  bare  3  speares  by  his  side 
to  deale  w^th  doughtye  dint. 


1688 


then  that  stout  stewared 
that  hight  S^r  Lamberd 


1  liking.— P. 

2  As  best  brojt  to  bay. — C. 

As  bestis  brought  to  baye. — Lam. 


9  i.  e.  burnt  brand. — P. 

*  quent,  queint. — P. 

5  ginne,  trick,  contrivance. — P. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


477 


armed  him  ffull  well  &  bright, 
&  rode  into  the  ffeild  ward — 
ffeircely  as  any  Libbard — 
1692  there  abode  him  thai  knight. 

him  tooke  a  speare  of  great  shape ;  l 
he  thought  he  came  to  Late. 

when  he  him  saw  with  sight, 
1696      soone  he  2  rode  to  him  that  stond 
with  a  speare  that  was  round, 
as  a  man  of  much  might. 


and  he  rides 
into  the 
field  as  fierce 
as  a  leopard. 


Lybius 
charges  him, 


1700 


1704 


1708 


Either  smote  on  others  sheeld 
that  the  peeces  ffell  in  the  ffeild 

of  theire  speares  long, 
euery  man  to  other  tolde 
"  that  younge  ~K.niaht  is  ffull  bold." 

to  him  with  a  speare  he  fflounge ; 
Sir  Lamberd  did  stifflye  ssitt ; 
he  was  wrath  out  of  his  witt 

ffor  Ire  and  ffor  teene,3  [page  340] 

&  sayd,  "  bring  me  a  speare  ! 
ffor  this  Knight  is  not  to  Lere, 

soone  itt  shalbe  scene."  4 


and  both 
shatter  their 
spears. 


then  they  tooke  shaftes  round, 
1712     with  crownalls  sharpe  ground, 

&  ffast  to-gether  did  run  ; 
either  proued  other  in  that  stond 
to  give  either  theire  deaths  wound, 
1716         with  harts  as  ffeirce  as  any  Lyon. 
Lamberd  smote  Sir  Lybius  thoe 
that  his  sheeld  ffell  him  ffroe 


They  charge 
again  with 
fresh  spears. 


Lamberd 

knocks 

Lybius's 


1  He  smote  hys  schaft  yn  grate.— C. 
He  sette  his  shelcle  in  grate. — Lam. 

2  Lybeauus. — C.     Lybeous. — Lam. 

3  anger,  madness,  vexation. — P. 


4  He   cryde, 
schaft ! 


'Do   come   a   strangers 


3yf  artours  kny3t  kan  craft, 
Now  hyt  schalk  be  sene.—  Cot. 


478 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


shield  on  the 
ground, 


into  the  ffeild  a-downe  ; 
1720      Sir  Lamberd  him  soe  hitt 

thai  vnnethes l  hee  might  sett 
vpright  in  his  arsowme,2 


and  nearly 

unhorses 

him. 


Lybius  cuts 
off 

Lamberd's 
helm, 


and  makes 
him  rock  in 


1724 


1728 


1732 


like  a  child 
in  a  cradle. 


his  shaft  brake  with  great  power. 
Sir  Lybius  hitt  him  on  the  visor 

thai  of  went  his  helme  bright ; 
the  pesanye,3  ventayle,4  &  gorgere,5 
with  the  helme  mew  fforth  in  fere, 

&  Sir  Lamberd  vpright 
sate  rocking 6  in  his  sadle 
as  a  chyld  in  a  cradle 

without  maine  &  might, 
euery  man  tooke  other  by  the  lappe, 
&  laughed  and  gan  their  hands  clappe, 

barron,  Burgesse,  and  ~K.nighi. 


Lamberd 
gets  another 
helm, 


and  they 
charge 


Lybius 


Sir  Lamberd,  he  thought  to  sitt  bett ; 
1736      another  helme  he  made  to  ffett,7 
&  a  shaft  ffull  meete. 

&  when  they  together  mett, 

either  other  on  their  helmes  sett 
1740          strokes  grim  &  great. 

then  Sir  Lamberds  speare  brast, 

&  Sir  Lybius  sate  soe  ffast 


1  scarcely. — P. 

2  saddle. — P.    arsoun. — C. 

3  pysane. — C.      pesanie. — Lam.       In 
The  Anturs  of  Arther,  st.  xlv.  ed.  Kob- 
son,  p.  21,  is: 

He  girdus  to  Syr  Gauane 
Throjhe  ventaylle  and  pusane  ; 
on  which  Dr.  Bobson  observes,  p.  99, 
"  This  was  either  the  Gorget  or  a  substi 
tute  for  it.     In  the  Acts  of  Parliament 
of  Scotland  (anno    1429)  vol.  ii.  p.  8, 
it  is  ordered  that  every  one  worth  201. 
a  year,  or  100£.  in  moveable  goods,  '  be 
wele  horsit  and  haill  enarmyt  as  a  gen- 


till  man  aucht  to  be.  And  uther  sym- 
pillare  of  X  lib.  of  rent,  or  L  lib.  in 
gudes  haif  hat,  gorgeat  or  pesaune,  with 
rerebrasares,  vambrasares,  and  gluffes  of 
plate,  breast  plate,  and  leg  splentes  at 
the  lest,  or  better  gif  him  likes.'" — F. 

4  auentayle. — C.     ventail,  The  Part  of 
the  Helmet  which  lifts  up.     Johns. — P. 

5  Gorgere,  id.  ac  Gorget.     The  Piece 
of   Armowr  which  defends  the   throat. 
Johns. — P. 

6  One  stroke  too  many  in  this  word  in 
the  MS.— F. 

7  fett,  fetch.— P. 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


479 


in  the  saddle  there  hee  1  sett, 
1744     that  they  Constable  Sir  Lamberd 
fFell  of  his  horsse  backward, 
soe  sore  they  there  mett. 

S^'r  Lamberd  was  ashamed  sore. 
1748     Sir  Lybius  asked  if  he  wold  more.2 

he  answered  and  said  "  nay  ! 
ffor  sithe  that,  euer  I  was  bore, 
saw  I  neuer  here  beffore 
1752         none  ryde  soe  to  my  pay  ! 
by  the  faith  that  I  am  in, 
thou  art  come  of  Sir  Gawayines  kin, 

thou3  art  soe  stout  and  gay. 
1756     if  thou  wilt  ffight  ffor  my  Ladye, 
welcome  thou  art  to  mee, 
by  my  troth  I  say  !  " 

Sir  Lybius  sayd,  "  sikerlye 
1760     I  will  ffight  for  my  Ladye  ;  4 

I  promised  soe  to  King  Arthur ; 
but  I  ne  wott  how  ne  why 
who  does  her  that  villanye, 
1764          ne  what  is  her  dolor  ; 

but  this  maid  that  is  her  mesenger, 
certes  has  brought  me  here 

her  ffor  to  succour." 
1768     Sir  Lamberd  said  in  that  stond 

"  welcome,  Sir  Knight  of  the  table  round, 
into  my  strong  tower  !  " 

then  mayd  Ellen  anon-rightes 
1772     was  ffeitched  fforth  with  5  Knights 


unhorses 
Lamberd. 


and  asks 
him  if  he 
wants  any 
more. 
"No,"  says 
Lamberd, 


"you  must  be 
of  Gawaine's 
blood  ; 

\vill  you 
fight  for 
my  lady  ?  " 


"  Certainly  I 
will. 


Hellen  has 
brought  me 
here  to  help 
her." 


Lamberd 
welcomes 
him  to  his 
tower. 


1  One  stroke  too  many  in  this  word  in 
the  MS.— F. 

2  The    French   omits   this  question  ; 
makes  Lampars  go  to  Lybius  and  say : 

"  Sire,"  fait-il,  "  ca,  descended  ; 
Par  droit  aves  1'ostel  conquis  ; 
Vos  1'aueres  a  vo  devis," 


then  embrace  Hellen  or  Hclie,  and  ask 
her  what  she  did  (at  Arthur's  court). — F. 

3  A  letter  is  crossed  out  at  the  end  of 
this  word  in  the  MS.— F. 

4  iFeyjte    y    schalle    for  a  lady.— C. 
ffyght  y  shall  for  thy  ladye. — Lam. 


480 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


Hellen  and 
the  Dwarf 
are  fetched 
in, 


and  relate 

Lybius's 

adventures. 


beffore  Sir  Lamberd. 
sliee  &  tlie  dwarffe  by-deene 
told  of  6  battells  l  keene 
1776         that  he  had  done  thitherward 
the  sayd  that  Sir  Lybius  then 
had  ffought  w^'th  strong  men, 
&  beene  in  stowers  hardy e. 
1780     then  they  were  glad  &  blythe, 
&  thanked  god  alsoe  sithe  2 
that  he  were  soe  mightye. 


Lybius  and 
Lamberd 
talk  of  old 


Lybius  asks 
what  knight 
has  im 
prisoned  the 
Lady  of 
Sinadowne. 


they  welcomed  him  w*th  mild  cheere, 
1784     &  sett  them  to  supper 

w^th  much  mirth  and  game. 
S^r  Lybius  &  S^r  Lamberd  in  ffere 
of  ancyents  that  beffore  were 
1788         talked  both  in3-same. 

Sir  Lybius  sayd,  "  w^th-out  ffable,4 
tell  me  now,  S^r  Constable, 
what  is  the  Knights  name 
1792     that  hath  put  in  prison 
my  Ladye  of  Sinadon 

that  is  soe  gentle  a  dame  ?  " 


[page  341] 


No  knight; 


but  two 
clerks, 


sorcerers, 
named 


S*r  Lamberd  said,  "  soe  mote  I  gone, 
1796     Knights  there  beene  none 

that  dare  her  away  Lead ; 

2  Clarkes  beene  her  ffone, 

ffull  ffalse  in  body  &  in  bone, 
1800         that  hath  done  this  deed. 

they  be  men  of  Masterye 

their  artes  ffor  to  reade  of  Sorcerye[; 


1  Tolde  seven  dedes. — Cot. 

2  fele   syde. — C.      fele    sythe. — Lam. 
'  Swithe'  is  quickly. — F. 


3  im  in  the  MS.— F. 

4  There  is  none  of  this  in  the  French. 
— F. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


481 


Mabam l  the  bight  one  in  deede, 
1804     &  Iron  hight  the  other  verelye,2 
cla[r]ckes  3  of  Nigromancye, 
of  them  wee  haue  great  dread. 

"  this  Mabam  &  Irowne 
1808     haue  made  in  the  towne 

a  palace  of  quent  gin  4  ; 
there  is  no  Erie  ne  barren 
thai  has  hart  as  Lyon 
1812         that  dare  come  therin  ; 
itt  is  all  of  the  ffaierye 
wrought  by  Nigromancye, 

that  wonder  it  is  to  winne. 
1816     there  they  keepe  in  prison 
my  Ladye  of  Sinadowne, 
that  is  of  Knights  kinn.5 

"oftentimes  wee  her  crye  ; 
1 820     ffor  to  see  6  her  w^th  eye, 

therto  we  haue  no  might, 
this  Mabam  &  Iron  trulye 
had  sworene  to  death  trulye 
1824         her  death  ffor  to  dight, 
but  if  shee  grant  vntill 
ffor  to  do  Mabams  will, 

&  giue  him  all  her  right 
1828     of  all  that  Dukedome  ffayre, 
therof  is  my  ladye  heyre 
that  is  soe  much  of  might. 


Mabam 
and  Iron, 


necro 
mancers, 


have  made  a 
curious 
palace  that 
no  one  dare 
enter, 


as  it's 
wrought  by 


necromancy; 
and  there 
they  keep  the 
Lady  of 
Sinadowne, 


and  will  put 
her  to  death, 


unless  she 


gives  up  her 
dukedom  to 
Mabam. 


"  shee  is  soe  meeke  &  soe  ffaire  ; 
1832     therfore  wee  be  in  dispayre 


1  Syr  Maboune. — C. 

'syr  Irayn  hys  broker. — C. 
-Lam. 
3  Clarkes.—  P. 


Irayne. 


4  Curious  contrivance. — P. 

5  The  n  is  made  over   an  e,  or  vice 
versa,  in  the  MS. — F. 

6  A  w  follows  and  is  crossed  out. — F. 


482 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


Lybius  says 
that  by 
Jesus's  help 


he'll  cut  off 
the  heads  of 
Mabam  and 
Iron, 


and  restore 
the  lady  to 
her  rights. 


Then  they 
sup; 


and  many 
come  to 


hear  about 
Lybius, 


and  listen  to 
him. 


ffor  the  dolour  thai  shees  in." 
then  sayd  Sir  Lybius, 
"  through  the  helpe  of  lesus 
1836         that  Ladye  I  will  winne  ; 
&  Mabam  &  Iron, 
smite  of  there  anon 

theire  heads  in  that  stoure, 
1840     &  wine  that  Lady  bright, 
&  bring  her  to  her  right 

w^'th  ioy  &  much  honor."  l 

then  there  was  no  more  tales  to  tell 
1844     in  that  strong  Castle. 

to  supp  &  make  good  cheere,2 
the  Barrens  &  Burgesse  all 
came  to  that  seemlye  hall 
1848         ffor  to  listen  &  heare 

how  S^r  Lybius  had  wrought; 
&  if  the  ~K.night  were  ought, 
his  talking  for  to  harke.3 
1852     they  ffound  them  sitting  in  ffere 
talking,  att  their  supper, 

of  Knights  stout  and  starke. 


1  C.  omits  the  next  twelve  lines,  (and 
ajters  many  before). — F. 

2  Tho  was  no  more  tale 


I  the  Castell  grete  and  smale, 
But  stouped  and  made  hym  blythe. 

-Lam. 

3  His  crafte  for  to  kythe. — Lam. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


483 


[The  Eighth  Part.] 

[Of  Lybius' s  Adventures  in  Sinadowne,  and  how  he  conquers  the  Lady's  Enchanters.] 


&  after  they  went  to  rest, 
1856     &  tooke  their  likeing1  as  them  list2 

in  thai  Castell  all  night. 
rOn  the  morrow  anon-right 

Sir  Lybius  was  armed  bright ; 
1860  ffresh  he  was  to  flight. 

Sir  Lamberd  led  him  algate  3 
8d  parte<i  right  vnto  the  Castle  gate  ; 

open  they  were  ffull  right ; 
1864         no  man  durst  him  neere  bringe 
fforsooth,  with-out  Leasing, 
Barron,  Burgess,  lie  ~Knighi, 


All  go  to  bed. 


Next 
morning 


Lamberd 
takes 
Lybius  to 
the  castle 
gates, 

but  no  man 
dares  go  in 
with  him. 


But  turned  home  againe. 
1868     Sir  Gefflet  his  owne  swaine  4 

wold  w^th  him  ryde, 
but  Sir  Lybius  ffor  certaine 
Sayd  he  shold  backe  againe,1 
1872         and  att  home  abyde. 

BIT  Gefflett  againe  gan  ryde  5 
w^th  Sir  Lamberd  ffor  to  abyde  ; 

&  to  lesu  christ  they  6  cryed, 
1876     ffor  to  send  them  ty dings  gladd 
of  them  thai  long  had 

destroyed  their  welthes  wyde. 


His  squire 
wants  to, 


but  Lybius 
forbids  him. 


[page  342] 


All  pray  for 
the  sorcerers' 
deaths. 


1  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 

a  J>o  toke  >eye  hare  reste, 
In  lykynge  as  hem  leste. — C. 
Tho  toke  they  ease  and  Eeste, 
And  lykynges  of  the  beste. — Lam. 

3  at  all  events,  by  all  means. — P. 

The  French  makes  Lanpars  describe 


to  Lybius  what  he  will  see,  and  what 
he  is  to  do,  in  la  Cite  Gaste,  (p.  98- 
100).— F. 

4  youth,  servant.     Jun. — P. 

5  The  Cotton  text  makes  Gefflett  stop 
at  the  castle,  1.  1754.— F. 

6  sc.  the  People.— P. 


484 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


Lybius  rides 
into  the 
palace, 


sees  horns, 
hears  music, 


a  bright  fire. 


Lybius  rides 
farther  in, 


Sir  Lybius,  ~Knight  curteous, 
880     rode  into  that  proud  palace,1 

&  att  the  hall  he  light. 
truxnpetts,  homes,  &  shaumes  2  ywis 
he  ffound  beffore  the  hye  dese,3 
1884         he  heard,  &  saw  with  sight. 

a  ffayre  ffyer  there  was  stout  &  stowre 
in  the  midds  of  the  flore, 

brening  ffaire  and  bright.4 
1888     then  ffurther  in  hee  yeed, 

&  tooke  w^th  him  his  steede 
thai  helped  him  to  flight. 


and  can  see 


nothing 


but  minstrels 


with  their 
harps,  &c., 
all  playing, 


and  a  torch 
before  every 
man. 


Lybius 


can't  find 
any  one  to 
fight, 


ffurthermore  he  began  to  passe, 
1892     &  beheld  then  euerye  place 

all  about  the  hall  ; 
of  nothing,  more  ne  lesse, 
he  saw  no  body  that  there  was, 
1896         but  minstrells  cladde  in  pall, 
with  harpe,  ffidle  &  note,5 
&  alsoe  with  Organ  note,  — 

great  mirth  they  made  all,  — 
1900     &  alsoe  fiddle  and  sautrye  6  ; 
soe  much  of  minstrelsye 
ne  say  7  he  neuer  in  hall. 

before  euery  man  stood 
1904     a  torch  ffayre  and  good, 

brening  ffull  bright. 
Sir  Lybius  Euermore  yode  8 
ffor  to  witt  9  with  Egar  mood 
1908         who  shold  with  him  flight. 


1  The     French     text     describes    the 
palace,  p.  101.— F. 

2  shaumes,  a  Psaltery ;  a  Musical  In 
strument  like  a  Harp.    Chau.  GIL— P. 

3  Dese,  Deis.    The  high  table.— P. 

4  Was  Iy3t  &  brende  bry3t. — C. 


That  tente  and  brende  bright.  —  Lam. 

5  rote.  —  C.     lute  and  roote.  —  Lam. 

6  a  Psaltery,  vid.  Supra.  —  P. 


8  went.  —  P. 

9  know.—  P. 


LIBIDS    DISCONIUS. 


485 


hee  went  into  all  the  corners, 
&  beheld  the  pillars 

thai  seemelye  l  were  to  sight ; 
1912     of  lasper  ffine  &  Cristall, 

all  was  flourished  in  the  hall ; 

itt  was  ffull  ffaire  &  bright. 

the  dores  were  all  of  brasse, 
1916     &  the  windowes  of  fiaire  glasse, 
that  ymagyrye  itt  was  driue. 
the  hall  well  painted  was  ; 
noe  ffairer  in  noe  place  ; 
1920         maruelous  ffor  to  descrine. 
hee  sett  him  on  the  hye  dese  : 
then  the  minstrells  were  in  peace 

that  made  the  mirth  soe  gay, 
1924     the  torches  that  were  soe  bright 
were  quenched  anon-right, 

&  the  minstrells  were  all  away  ; 

the  dores  &  the  windowes  all, 
1928     the  bett  2  together  in  the  hall 

as  it  were  strokes  of  thunder  ; 
the  stones  in  the  Castle  wall 
about  him  downe  gan  ffall ; — 
1932         thereof  he  had  great  wonder  ; — 
the  earth  began  to  quake, 
&  the  dese  ffor  to  shake 

that  was  him  there  vnnder  3  ; 
1936     the  hall  began  for  to  breake, 
&  soe  did  the  wall  eke, 

as  they  shold  ffall  assunder. 


but  only  sees 

jasper 

pillars, 


brass  door*, 
&c., 


in  the 

decorated 

hall. 


He  fits  on 
the  dais, 
and  at  once 
the  music 
stops, 

the  torches 
go  out, 

the 

minstrels 

vanish, 


the  doors 
and  windows 
clash 
together, 


all  the  stones 
of  the  wall 
fall  down, 

the  earth 
quakes, 


the  hall  and 
walls  begin 
to  crack. 


1940 


as  he  sate  thus  dismayd, 
he  held  himselfe  betrayd. 


In  line  1910  in  the  MS.— F.  2  They  beat.— P. 


3  there  undo:1. — P. 


486 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


Then  lie 
hears  horses 
neigh.  He 
says  there's 
some  one  to 
fight, 


two  men  of 
arms 


well  arrayed. 


One  rides 
into  the 
hall, 
and  tells 
Lybius  he 
must  fight 
them. 


Lybius 

is  quite 
willing, 


mounts, 


then  horses  heard  hee  nay : 
to  himselfe  then  he  sayd, 
"  now  I  am  the  better  apayd, 
1944         for  yett  I  hope  to  play." 

hee  looked  fforth  into  the  ffeild, 
saw  there  with  speare  and  sheild  l 

men  of  armes  tway,2 
1948     in  purple  &  pale  armoure 

well  harnished  in  thai  stoiire, 

with  great  garlands  gay. 

The  one  came  ryding  into  the  hall, 
1952     &  to  him  thus  gan  call, 

"  Sir  'Knighi  aduenturous  ! 
such  a  case  there  is  befall ; 
tho  thou  bee  proude  in  pall, 
1956         flight  thou  must  with  vs. 
I  hold  thee  quent  of  ginne  3 
if  thou  my  Ladye  winne  4 

thai  is  in  prison." 
1960     Sir  Lybius  sayd  anon-right, 
"all  ffresh  I  am  ffor  to  flight, 

with  the  helpe  of  goddes  sonne." 

Sir  Lybyus  with  good  hart 
1964     ffast  into  the  saddle  he  start ; 
in  his  hand  a  speare  he  hent, 

&  fleircly  he  rode  him  till, 

his  enemyes  flbr  to  spill ; 
1968         flbr  thai  was  his  entent. 


[page  343] 


is  a  stroke  between  the  e  and 
i  in  the  MS.— F. 

2  The  French  postpones  the  darkness, 
&c.,  and  makes  Lybius  first  see  and  fight 
a  single  knight  (p.  103,  Ewrains  lifters, 
p.  119),  and  put  him  to  flight;  then  fight 
another  (Mabons,  p.  1 19),  on  a  horse  with 
a  horn  in  his  forehead,  and  fire  shooting 
out  of  his  nostrils,  (p.  105-8).  Then 
comes  the  darkness,  and  a  horrible  noise ; 


Lybius  thinks  of  La  Damoiselle  aux 
blances  mains,  and  commends  himself 
to  God;  the  Wivre  (Lat.  viperd)  appears, 
comes  near  him,  and  kisses  him ;  he  is 
stupefied ;  a  voice  tells  him  who  he  is ; 
he  dreams ;  and  on  waking  sees  the 
lovely  Esmerce,  who  tells  him  her  story. 
— F. 

3  clever  of  contrivance.—  P\ 

4  wime  MS. — F. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 

but  when  they  had  together  mett, 
either  on  others  helme  sett 

with  speares  doughty e  dent. 
1972     Mabam  his  speare  all  to-brast ; 
then  was  Mabam  euill  agast, 

&  held  him  shameffully  shent. 

&  with  that  stroke  ffelowne  * 
1976     Sir  Lybius  bare  him  downe 

ouer  his  horsse  tayle  ; 
ffor  Mabams  saddle  arsowne 
brake  there-with,  &  fell  downe 
1980         into  the  ffeild  without  ffayle. 
well  nye  he  had  him  slone  ; 
but  then  came  ryding  Iron 

In  a  good  hawberke  of  mayle  ; 
1984     all  ffresh  he  was  to  flight, 

&  thought  he  wold  anon-right 
Sir  Lybius  assayle. 

Sir  Lybius  was  of  him  ware, 
1988     &  speare  vnto  him  bare, 
&  left  his  brother  still, 
such  a  stroke  he  gaue  hime  thore 
that  his  hawberke  all  to-tore  ; 
1992         that  liked  him  ffull  ill. 
their  speares  brake  in  2  ; 
swords  gan  they  draw  tho 

with  hart  grim  and  grill,2 
1996     &  stifflye  gan  to  other  flight ; 

either  on  Other  proued  their  might, 
eche  other  ffor  to  spill. 

then  together  gan  they  hew. 
2000     Mabam,  the  more  shrew,3 


487 

and  charges. 


Mabara 
shivers  his 
spear, 


and  is  cut 
over  his 
horse's  tail 
by  Lybius, 


and  nearly 
killed, 
but  that 
Iron  attacks 
Lybius, 


who  rides  at 
him, 


and  rends 
his  hauberk. 


They  draw 
their  swords, 


and  hew  at 
cue  another. 


1  felon  stroke,  i.e.  a  murderous  stroke. 
-P. 

2  idem  ac  grisly.     Gl.  ad  Ch.— P. 


8  shrew,  apud  Chaucer  est,  a  Vitlaine ; 
here  it  seems  to  signify  shrewd,  cunning, 
artful.— P. 


488 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


Mabam 
gets  up, 


and  attacks 
Lybius  too, 


but  he 
defends 
himself  like 


Mabam  (t.i. 
Iron) 


chops  off 
Lybius's 
steed's  neck. 


Lybius  cuts 
Iron's  thigh 
in  two, 


dismounts, 


and  fights 
Mabam. 


The  sparks 

fly- 


vp  he  rose  againe  ; 
he  heard  &  alsoe  knew 
Iron  gaue  strokes  ffew  ; 
2004         therof  he  was  not  ffaine ; 

but  to  him  he  went  ffull  right 
ffor  to  helpe  Iron  to  ffight, 

&  auenge  him  on  his  enemye. 
2008     tho  he  were  neuer  soe  wroth, 

Sir  Lybius  fought  against  them  both 

and  kept  himselfe  manlye. 

when  Mabam  saw  Iron,1 
2012     he  ffought  as  a  Lyon 

the  knight  to  slay  w^'th  wreake. 
beffore  his  ffardar  arsowne 
soone  he  carued  then  downe 
2016         S^r  Lybius  steeds  necke. 

Sir  Lybius  was  a  worthy  warryour, 
&  smote  a  2  his  thye  2  in  that  stoure, 

skine,3  bone,  and  blood. 
2020     then  helped  him  not  his  clergye, 
neither  his  ffalse  Sorcerye,4 

but  downe  he  ffell  w^th  sorry  moode. 

S^'r  Lybius  of  his  horsse  alight, 
2024     w^'th  Mabam  ffor  to  ffight. 
in  the  ffeild  both  in  ffere 

strong  stroakes  they  gaue  w^'th  might, 

that  sprakeles  6  sprang  out  ffull  bright 
2028         ffrom  helme  and  harnesse  cleere. 

as  either  ffast  on  other  bett,6 

both  their  swords  mett, 


1  Yrayn  saw  Mabonn.— Cot.     Lam. 

2  There  is  the  long  part  of  another  h 
in  the  MS. — F. 

3  ?  skime  in  the  MS.— F. 

4  }>o  halp  hym  no3t  hys  armys, 

Hys  chauntemewt,  ne  hys  charmys. 
—Cot 


Ne  halpe  hym  not  his  Armowr, 
His  chauntemewts,  ne  his  chambur, 
— Lam. 

5  ?  MS.  spaakeles.— F. 

6  did  beat.— P. 


LI1J1US    DISCONIUS. 


489 


As  yee  may  now  heare.  fPagc  344] 

2032     Mabam,  thai  was  the  more  shrew, 
the  sword  of  Sir  Lybius  he  did  hew 
in  2  quite  and  cleare. 

then  Sir  Lybius  was  ashamed, 
2036     &  in  his  hart  euis  l  agramed  2 
ffor  he  had  Lost  his  sword, 
&  his  steed  was  lamed, 
&  he  shold  be  defamed 
2040         to  ~Kmy  Arthur  his  lord, 
to  Iron  lithelye  3  he  ran, 
&  hent  vp  his  sword  then 

thai  sharpe  edge  4  had  &  hard, 
2044     &  ran  to  Mabam  right 

&  ffast  on  him  gan  ffight, 
&  like  a  madman  he  ffared. 


Mabam 
cuts  Lybius's 
sword  in 
two. 


Lybius 
gets  angry, 


catches  up 
Iron's  sword, 


runs  to 
Mabam 


but  euer  then  ffought  Mabam, 
2048     as  he  had  beene  a  wyld  man, 

Sir  Lybius  ffor  to  sloe, 
but  Sir  Lybius  carued  downe 
his  sheild  with  thai  ffawchowne 
2052         thai  he  tooke  Iron  ffroe  : 
true  tale  ffor  to  be  told,5 
the  left  hand  with  the  sheild 

away  he  smote  thoe. 
2056     then  sayd  Mabam  him  till 

"  Sir  !  thy  stroakes  beene  ill ! 
gentle  Knighi,  now  hoe,6 

"  &  I  will  yeeld  me  to  thee 
2060     in  loue  and  in  Loyal tye 


and  cuts  off 
his  shield 


and  left 
hand. 


Mabam 


offers  to 

surrender 

himself, 


1  for  euir,  or  evil. — F.     sore. — Lam. 
Cot.  omits  it. — F. 

2  agramed,  displeased,   grieved.     Gl. 
ad   Chauc.   rather    (agramed)    angered. 
A.-S.  Gram.  Furor.  Lye. — P. 

VOL.  II.  K   K 


3  lithely,  gently,  (nimbly).— P. 

4  The  d  has  two  bottoms  in  the  MS., 
or  tho  word  is  eidgc. — F. 

5  teld,  rhythmi  gratia. — P. 

6  i.  e.  now  stop. — P. 


490 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


and  to  give 
up  the  Lady 
of  Sina- 
downe, 


for  Iron's 
sword  was 
poisoned, 
and  will  kill 
him. 


att  thine  owne  will, 
&  alsoe  that  Lady  ffree 
that  is  in  my  posstee,1 
2064         take  her  I  will  thee  till ; 

ffror  through  that  sh[r]ueed  dint 
my  hand  I  haue  tint 2  ; 

the  veinim  will  me  spill ; 
2068     fibrsooth  without  othe 
I  venomed  them  both, 
our  enemy es  ffor  to  kill." 


Lybius 
refuses, 


calls  on  him 
to  fight 
again, 


and  then 


splits  his 
head  in  two. 


Sir  Lybius  sayd,  "by  my  thrifft 
2072     I  will  not  haue  of  thy  gift 

ffor  all  this  world  to  w[i]nn  ! 
therfore  lay  on  stroakes  swythe  ! 
the  one  shall  cut  the  other  blythe 
2076         the  head  of  by  the  Chin  3  !  " 
then  S^r  Lybius  and  Mabam 
Bought  together  ffast  then, 

&  lett  ffor  nothing  againe  ; 
2080     that  Sir  Lybius  that  good  Knight 
carued  his  helme  downe  right, 
&  his  head  in  twayne.4 


1  poste,  apud  Chauc.  est  Power.  Vid. 
G1.—P. 

2  lost.— P. 

3  One  stroke  too  many  in  the  MS. — F. 


4  The  French  adds  (p.  108): 
Del  cors  li  saut  i  fumiere, 
Q,ui  molt  estoit  hideuse  et  fiere, 
Qui  li  issoit  parmi  la  boce,  &c. — F. 


LIUIUS   DISCONIUS. 


491 


[The  Ninth  Part.] 

[How  Lybius  disenchants  and  weds  the  Lady  of  Sinadowne.] 


2084 


9d:  Parte 

2088 


2092 


Now  is  Mabam  slaine  ; 
&  to  Irom  lie  went  againe, 

with,  sword  drawne  to  ffight ; 
fFor  to  haue  Clouen  Ms  braine, 
I  tell  you  fFor  certaine 

he  went  to  him  ffull  right ; 
but  when  he  came  there,1 
away  he  was  bore, 

into  what  place  he  nist.2 
he  sought  him  ffor  the  nones  3 
wyde  in  many  woones  4  ; 
to  ffight  more  him  List. 


Lybius  goes 
to  kill  Iron, 


but  he  has 
vanished, 


and  can't  be 
found. 


as  he  stood,  &  him  bethought 5 
2096     that  itt  wold  be  deere  bought 
that  he  was  ffrom  him  fare, 
ffor  he  wold  with  sorcerye 
doe  much  tormenrtye, 
2100         &  that  was  much  care. 

he  tooke  his  sword  hastilye, 
&  rode  vpon  a  hill  hye, 


Lybius 


thinks  he 
may  give 
him  trouble'. 


Lybius 


1  thore.— P. 

2  MS.    list.      ?  nist,   knew    not.— F. 
nyste. — Cot.     miste. — Lam. 

3  the  nones,  or  nonce,  on  purpose ;  de 
industria.     Jun.  purposely. — P. 

*  wone,  a  house,  habitation. — P. 

6  Neither  the  French,  nor  Cot.,  nor 
Lam.,  has  the  seeing  and  slaying  of  the 
knight  which  follows  here.  Cot.  reads : 

And  whanne  he  ne  fond  hym  no3t, 

He  held  hymself  be-caujt, 
And  gan  to  syke  sare, 

And  seyde  yn  word  and  J^oujt, 

"  J'ys  wyll  be  sore  a-bou3t 


)>at  he  ys  thus  fram  me  y-fare." 
^[  On  kne  hym  sette  J>«t  gentylle  kny3t, 
And  prayde  to  marie  bry3t,  j 

Keuere  hym  of  hys  care. 
For  the  last  three  lines,  Lam.   substi 
tutes  : 

"  He  will  with  sorcerye 
Do  me  tormentrye 

That  is  my  moste  care." 
Sore  he  sat  and  sighte ; 
He  muste  whate  do  her  myght ; 

He  was  of  blysse  all  bare. 
(1.  2122-7  here).— F. 


K  K  2 


492 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


knight  in  a 
valley, 


&  looked  round  about. 
2104     then  he  was  ware  of  [a]  valley  ; 
thitherward  he  tooke  the  way 
as  a  sterne  ~Knighi  and  stout. 


rides  to  him, 
and  cuts  his 
head  off, 


then  comes 
back, 


and  goes  to 
the  hall 


to  look  for 
the  Lady  of 
Sinadowne. 


He  mourns, 
because  he 
can't  find 
her. 


as  he  rode  by  a  riuer  side 
2108     he  was  ware  of  him  thai  tyde 

vpon  the  riuer  brimm  : 
He  rode  to  him  ffull  hott, 
&  of  his  head  he  smote, 
2112         ffast  by  the  Chinn  ; 

&  when  he  had  him  slaine, 
ffast  hee  tooke  the  way  againe 

for  to  haue  thai  lady  gent. 
2116     as  soone  as  he  did  thither  come, 
of  his  horsse  he  light  downe, 
and  into  the  hall  hee  went 

&  sought  thai  ladye  ffaire  and  hend, 
2120     but  he  cold  her  not  find  ; 

therfor  he  sighed  ffull  sore.1 
still  he  sate  mourni[n]g 
ffor  thai  Ladye  ffaire  &  young; 
2124         for  her  was  all  his  care  ; 

he  ne  wist  what  he  doe  might ; 
but  still  he  sate,  &  sore  he  sight, 
of  loy  hee  was  ffull  bare. 


[page  345] 


A  window 
opens, 


2.128     but  as  he  sate  in  thai  hall, 

he  heard  a  window  in  the  wall, 

ffaire  itt  gan  vnheld  ; — 
great  [wonder  2  ]  there  w^'th-all 
2132     in  his  hart  gan  ffall ; — 
as  he  sate  &  beheld, 


1  sair.  Scotice.— P.         '  fear  or  dread.— P.     wonder.— Cot.    wondyr.— Lam. 


LIBIUS    DISCOXIUS.  493 

a  worme  l  out  gan  pace  and  out 

creeps  a 

with  a  womans  nace  worm  (or 

serpent) 
2136          that  was  young;e  &  nothing  old.  with  a 

.  young 

the  wormes  tayle  2  &  her  winges  woman's 

shone  ffayre  in  all  thinges,  shining 

&  gay  ffor  to  beholde. 

2140     grislye  great  was  her  taile,  big  claws 

the  clawes  large  without  ffayle  ; 

Lothelye3  was  her  bodye.  andaioathiy 

body. 

S/r  Lybius  swett  for  heate, 
2144     there  sate  in  his  seate 

as  all  had  beene  a  ffire  him  by.4 

then  was  Sir  Lybius  euill  agast, 

&  thought  his  body  wold  brast. 
2148         then  shee  neighed  him  nere  ;  it  comes  to 

p  o  •     T     i  •         ->j_        •    i  Lybius, 

&  or  b<r  Lybius  itt  wist, 

the  worme  w/th  mouth  him  Kist,  kisses  him 

on  tli6 

&  colled  about  his  lyre.5  mouth, 

2152     &  after  th at  kissing,  its  fail  and 

, ,  i       p    i  •  wings  fall 

the  wormes  tayle  &  her  wing  off, 

1  Fr.  wivre.     Phillips  gives  "  Wyver,  Parmi  le  pis  plus  grosse  estoit 

the   Name  of  a    Creature  little  known  Que  i  vaissaus  d'un  mui  ne  soit ; 

otherwise  than  as  it  is  painted  in  Coats  Les  iols  avoit  gros  et  luisans, 

of  Arms  and  described  by  Heralds  :  rTis  Comme  ii  escarbocles  grans ; 

represented   by   Gwillim   as   a   kind  of  Contreval  1'aumaire  descent, 

flying  Serpent,   and  so  may  be  deriv'd  Et  vint  parmi  le  pavement, 

from  Vipera,  as  it  were  a  winged  Viper  Quatre  toises  de  lone  dnroit, 

or  Serpent ;  but  others  will  have  it  to  be  En  la  queue  iii  neus  avoit. 

a  sort  of  Ferret  call'd  Viverra  in  Latin."  C'onques  nus  hom  ne  vit  greignor, 

De   Biauju's   description   of  it  may  be  Ains  Dius  ne  fist  cele  color, 

compared,  with  the  English  :  Qu'en  li  ne  soit  entremellee, 

A  tant  vit  i  aumaire  ouvrir  Dessous  sambloit  estre  doree. 

Et  une  WIVRE  fors  issir,  (pp.  1 1 0-1 1 ).— F. 

Qui  jetoit  une  tel  darts'  2  Hyre  body. — Cot.     Lam. 

Com  i  cierge  bien  enbrase".  s  i.e.  loathsome. — P. 

Tot  le  palais  enluminoit,  *  Maad  as  he  were. — C. 

Une  si  grant  clarte  jetoit.  As  alle  had  ben  in  fyre. — Lam. 

Hom  ne  vit  onques  sa  parelle,  5  apud  Scot,  flesh.    Apud  Chauc.  lere  is 

Que  la  bouce  ot  tot  vermelle  ;  the  Complexion  or  Air  of  the  face.— P. 

Parmi  jetoit  le  feu  ardent ;  Swyre. — Cot.   Lam.    Coll  is  to  embrace  ; 

Moult  par  estoit  hideus  et  grant ;  Fr.  collee,  an  imbracing  about  the  necke. 

Cotgrave. 


494 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


and  a  lovely 
woman 


stands 

naked  before 
him. 


She  tells 
him 


he  has  slain 

two 

sorcerers, 


who  turned 
her  into  a 
serpent 


till  she 
should  kiss 
Gawaine 
or  one  of 
his  kin. 


ffell  away  her  ffroe  ; 
she  was  ffaire  in  all  thing, 
•2156     a  woman  without  Leasing  ; 

fairer  he  saw  neuer  or  thoe.1 
shee  stood  vpp  al  soe  2  naked 
as  christ  had  her  shaped. 
2160         then  was  Sir  Lybius  woe. 

shee  sayd,  "  god  thai  on  the  rood  gan  bleed, 
Sir  Knight,  quitt  thee  thy  meede, 

ffor  thou  my  ffone  wold  sloe.3 

2164     "  thou  hast  slaine  now  ffull  right 
2  clarkes  wicked  of  might 

thai  wrought  by  the  ffeende. 
East,  west,  north  and  south, 
2168     they  were  masters  of  their  mouth ;  4 

many  a  man  they  haue  shend. 
through  their  inchantment, 
to  a  worme  the  had  me  meant,5 
2172         ne  woe  to  wrapp  me  in 

till  I  had  k[i]ssed  Sir  Gawaine 
that  is  a  noble  J£wight  certaine, 
or  some  man  of  his  kinn. 


1  De  Biauju  sends  her  back  into  her 
cupboard  after  the  kiss,  stiipefi  es  Lybius, 
and  reveals  his  name  and  parentage  to 
him, — Giglains,  son  of  Gauvains  (Ga 
waine),  tucidlafte  as  Glances  Mains,  then 
sends  him  to  sleep,  and  on  his  waking 
shows  him  the  lady  at  her  toilet  (p.  115), 
fairer  than  any  one  else  in  the  world, 
except  she  of  the  Stances  Mains  (who 
excels  Paris' s  Elaine,  Isex  la  blonde, 
Bliblis,  Lavine  de  Lombardie,  and  Morge 
la  fee,  (p.  152).  This  all  takes  place  in 
L'llle  de  la  Montbestee  (p.  116);  and 
the  lady  declares  herself  as  the  daughter 
of  le  bon  roi  Gringars.  She  narrates 
how  Mabons  and  Eurains  enchanted  the 
5000  inhabitants  and  made  them  destroy 
the  city,  and  then  turned  her  into  a 
worm.  Of  the  town  she  says : 

.  .  ceste  ville  par  droit  non 

Est  appelee  Senaudon ; 


Por  ce  que  Mabons  1'a  gaste'e, 
Est  GASTECITES  apelee.    (p.  120.) 
But  as  the  story  has  been  sketched  in 
the  Introduction,  I  only  note  here  that 
the   lady's   name,  BLONDE  ESMEREE,  is 
not  given  till  p.  130,  when  she  is  starting 
for  Arthur's  court. — F. 

2  MS.  alsoe.— F. 

3  God  yelde  J>e  dy  whyle, 

J>#t  my  fon  \>on  woldest  slo. — Cot. 

God  yelde  the  thi  wille, 

My  foon  thou  woldest  sloo. — Lam, 

4  Be  wordes  of  hare  mouthe. — Cot. 
With  maystres  of  her  mouthe. — Lam. 

5  this  word  signifies  mingled,  mixed, 
ap?  G.  Doug.  Chauc.  &c. — P. 

To  warme  me  hadde  >ey  y-went 
In  wo  to  welde  and  wend. — Cot. 
To  a  worme  they  had  me  went, 
In  wo  to  leven  and  lende. — Lam. 


LIBIUS   DISCONIUS. 


495 


2176     ffor  !  thou  hast  saued  my  liffe, 
Castles  50  and  2  ffiue 
take  to  thee  I  will, 
&  my  selfe  to  be  thy  wifFe 
2180     right  without  striffe, 

if  itt  be  your  will."  3 

then  was  he  glad  &  blythe, 
&  thanked  god  often  sythe  4 
2184         That  him  thai  grace  had  sent,     [page  340] 
&  sayd,  "  my  Lore?  5  faire  &  ffree, 
all  my  loue  I  leaue  with  thee, 

by  god  omnipotent ! 
2188     I  will  goe,  my  Lacfye  bright, 
to  the  castle  gate  ffull  right, 

thither  ffor  to  wend 
ffor  to  feitch  your  geere 
2192     that  yee  were  wont  to  wearo, 
&  them  I  will  you  send. 


She  promises 
Lybius 
fifty-five 
castles 


and  herself 
as  his  wife. 


Lybins  is 
blithe, 


and  proposes 
to  fetch  the 
lady's 

clothes  from 
the  castle, 


"  alsoe,  if  itt  be  your  will, 
I  pray  you  to  abyde  still 
2196          till  I  come  6  againe." 

"  Sir,"  shee  said,  "  I  you  pray 
wend  fforth  on  your  way,7 
therof  I  am  ffaine." 


if  she  will 
stay  till  he 
comas  back. 


2200     Sir  Lybius  to  the  castle  rode, 
there  the  people  him  abode  ; 


Lybius  rides 
to  the  castle 


1  because.— P.        2  MS.  amd.— F. 

3  jyf  hyt  ys  artours  wylle. — Cot. 
And  hit  be  Arthures  will. — Lam. 

4  Time — also,  since,  afterwards.     Gl. 
Chauc. — P.     Cot.  has  for  this  and  the 
next  sixteen  lines: 

And  lepte  to  horse  swy>e, 

And  lefte  >at  lady  stylle. 
But  ener  he  dradde  yrayn, 
For  he  was  no3t  y-slayn, 

With  speche  he  wolde  hym  spylle. 


Lam.  has  nearly  the   same   words,   but 
omits  the  last  line  but  one. — F. 

5  Ladye. — P. 

6  cone  in  MS. — F. 

7  "  I  you  pray  "  the  writer  of  the  MS. 
was  going  to  repeat,  and  got  as  far  as 
p :    then    he  stopt,    put  in   on  after  /, 
added  r  to  you,  and  way  to  the  p,    so 
that  the  words  are  "  I  on  your  pway." 
— F. 


496 


LIBIUS   DISCONITJS. 


and  tells  the 
people  that 
Mabam  and 
Iron  are 
slain. 


2204 


2208 


to  lesu  chr[i]st  gan  they  crye 
ffor  to  send  them  ty dings  glad 
of  them  thai  Long  had 

done  them  tormentrye. 
S^r  Lybius  is  to  the  Castle  come, 
&  to  S^r  Lamberd  he  told  anon, 

and  alsoe  the  Barronye,1 
how  S^'r  Mabam  was  slaine 
&  SIT  Iron,  both  twayine, 

by  the  helpe  of  mild  Marye. 


He  sends  a 
rich  robe 


2212     when  thai  ~K.night  soe  keene 
had  told  how  itt  had  beene 

to  them  all  by-deene, 
a  rich  robe  good  &  ffine, 
2216     well  ffurred  w^'th  good  Ermine, 
he  sent  that  Ladye  sheene  ; 


and  garlands 
to  the  lady, 


and  all  the 
people  of 
Sinadowne 
go  and 
fetch  her 
home. 


They  crown 
her, 


Kerchers  and  garlands  rich 
he  sent  to  her  priniliche,2 
2220         that  mayd  ho  wold  home  bring/ 
&  when  shee  was  readye  dight, 
thither  they  went  anon-right, 
both  old  and  young, 

2224     &  all  the  ffolke  of  Sinadowne 
w^'th  a  ffaire  procession 

the  Ladye  home  they  ffett. 
&  when  they  were  come  to  towne, 
2228     of  precyous  gold  a  rich  crowne 
there  on  her  head  the  sett. 


and  thank 
God. 


they  were  glad  and  blythe, 
&  thanked  god  often  sithe 


1  i.  e.  The  Barrens  collectively. — P. 

2  i.e.  privily.— P. 


3  A-non  with-out  dwellynge. — Cot. 
A  byrd  hit  ganne  hir  bringe. — Lam. 


LIBIDS    DISCONIUS. 


497 


2232         that  ffrom  woe  them  had  brought. 
all  the  Lords  of  dignitye 
did  him  homage  and  ffealtye, 
as  of  right  they  ought. 

2236     they  dwelled  7  dayes  in  the  tower 
there  Sir  Lamberd  was  gouernor, 

with  mirth,  loy,  and  game  ; 
&  then  they  rode  With  honor 
2240     vnto  King  Arthur, 

.  the  Knights  all  in- same. 

ffins.1 


1  It  is  so  very  wrong  of  the  copier  or  translator  to  have  broken  off  the  story 
without  giving  the  wedding  between  Lybius  and  his  love,  that  I  add  it  here  from  the 
three  imprinted  MSS.  as  well  as  the  Cotton  one.  The  Lincoln's  Inn  and  Ashmole 
MSS.  have  more  stanzas  than  the  Cotton  and  Lambeth  ones. 


Lybius  and 
the  lady  stay 
seven  days 
there, 
and  then 
ride  off  to 
Arthur. 


Lincoln's  Inn  MS.  Hale,  No.  150,  art.  i., 
last  leaf. 

>ay  >onkyd  god  almy3t, 
BoJ?e  Arthour  and  his  kny3t, 

J?at  heo  [ne]  hadde  *  schame. 
Arthour  3af  as  blyue 
Libeus  }?at  may  to  wyue 

Jjat  was  so  gent  a  dame. 

£eo  murthe  of  J^eo  brydale, 
Nomon  con  wij?  tale 

Telle  hit  in  no  geste. 
In  £at  semly  sale 
Weore  lordes  monye  and  fale, 

And  ladyes  wel  honeste. 
J>er  was  ryche  seruyse 
Bo£>e  to  fool  and  wyse, 

To  leste  and  to  meste. 
£er  wan  £>ay  yche  jifthes,        [back  of  leaf] 
vche  mynstral  a  ry3htis, 

And  sowme  J>at  weore  vnprest. 

Sir  Gawayn,  kny3t  of  renoun, 
saide  to  J?eo  lady  of  synaydoun, 

"  Madame,  treouely, 
he  J>at  weddid  \Q  wif>  pruyde, 
y  gat  him  by  a  forest  syde 

On  a  gentil  lady." 


Ashmole  MS.  61,  leaf  5Sb. 
They  thankyd  god  of  his  my3htes, 
Kynge  Arthowr  And  hys  kny3htes, 

That  sehe  had  no  schame. 
Arthour  3ane  be-lyue  [leaf  59] 

Syre  lybeus  >«t  mey  to  wyue, 

That  was  so  jentj-11  A  dame. 

The  my[r]the  of  }>at  brydall 
May  no  man  tell  \vith  tale 

Ne  sey  in  no  geste : 
Yn  J)«t  sembly  sale 
Where  brydes  grete  and  smale, 

And  lades  full  honeste  ; 
There  was  many  A  mang, 
And  seruys  gode  wone 

Both  to  most  and  leste. 
Fore  soth  >e  mynstrallcs  Alle 
That  [were]  wiU-in  J>«t  hallo 

And  f  3yftes  of  )>e  beste. 

Syre  lybeus  moder  so  fre 
Come  to  \>at  mangerre ; 

Hyre  rudd  was  rede  as  ryse  ; 
Sche  knew  lybeus  wele  be  sy3ht, 
And  wyst  wele  A-none  ry3ht 

That  he  was  of  mych  pryse. 

Sche  went  to  ser  gawene, 
Ard  seyd,  "  wtt^-outen  leyne 


*  An  s,  blotted,  stands  here  in  the  MS.— F. 


t  had.— F. 


498 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


(Lincoln's  Inn  MS. 

)?anne  fat  lady  bly>e  was, 
And  ful  ofte  kyssed  his  fas, 

And  haylsel  [sic]  hym  sykyrly. 
Sir  Libeus  J>an  wold  ky>e : 
he  wente  to  his  fader  swyj?e, 

And  kyssed  him  tymes  monye. 

he  kneoled  in  J?at  stounde, 

And  saide,  kneoland  on  grounde, 

"  for  godis  loue  al  weldand, 
J>at  made  J?eo  world  so  round, 
fayre  fadir,  or  y  fonde, 

blesse  me  wij>  )>yn  hond." 
)>at  hynde  kny3t  Gawayn 
blessyd  f>eo  child  wi>  mayn, 

And  made  him  seojj^e  yp  stande. 
he  comaundyd  kny^t  and  sweyn 
To  clepe  Libeus  "  Gengelayne," 

J>at  was  lord  of  lond. 

fourty  dayes  J>ay  dwellyd, 
And  heore  feste  faire  heold 

wij>  Arthoure  J>eo  kynge. 
As  £>eo  gest  vs  tolde, 
Arthour  wi>  kny3tis  bolde 

horn  gonne  J>ay  brynge. 
twenty  yere  J>ay  lyued  in-same 
wi}>  muche  gleo  and  game, 

he  and  }?at  swete  >ynge. 
Ihesu  Cryst  oure  saueour, 
And  his  modir  j?at  swete  flour, 

spede  vs  at  our  nede ! 

Explicit  Lebim^s  de-sconius  [?MS.] 


(Ashmole  MS.  continued^) 

Thys  is  owre  chyld  so  fre." 
Than  was  he  glad  and  blyth, 
And  kyssed  hym  many  A  sythe, 

And  seyd,  "  \>at  lykes  me." 

Syre  gawen,  kny3ht  of  renowne, 
Seyd  to  J>e  lady  of  synadouw, 

"  Madame,  treuly 
He  bat  hath  be  wedyd  vrith  pride, 
Y  gate  hym  vnd[er]  A  forest  syde 

OffagentyUlady." 
Than  >at  lady  was  blyth, 
And  thankyd  hym  many  A  syth, 

And  kyssed  hym  sykerly. 
Than  lybeus  to  hym  wan, 
And  \>er  he  kyssed  J>at  man ; 

Fore  soth  treuly 

He  fell  on  kneys  in  ]>at  stouwd, 
lybeus  knelyd  on  J?e  ground, 

And  seyd,  "fore  god  All  weldinge 
That  made  )>e  werld  rownd, 
Feyre  fader,  wele  be  36  fownd ! 

Blysse  me  with  $our  blyssynge !  " 

That  hend  kny3ht  gawene 
Blyssed  hys  sone  -with  mayne, 

And  made  hym  vp  to  stond, 
And  comandyd  kny3ht  and  sweyne 
To  calle  hym  gyngelyane, 

That  was  lorde  of  lond. 

Forty  deys  \>er  they  duellyd,        [leaf  596.] 
And  grete  fest  \>c\  held 

With  Arthowr  >e  kynge. 
As  )>e  gest  hath  told, 
Arthowr  with  kny^htes  bold 

Home  gane  hym  brynge. 
X  3ere  \>e\  lyued  in-same 
With  mekyll  gle  and  game, 

He  and  that  suete  thynge. 
Ihesu  cryst  owre  sauyowr, 
And  his  moder  J>at  suete  floure, 

To  heuene  blys  vs  brywge ! 

Here  endes  >e  lyfe — 

Y  telle  3ow  Tvith-onten  stryfe — 

Off  gentyll  libeus  disconews. 
Fore  his  saule  now  byd  30 
A  pater  noster  And  An  Aue, 

Fore  >e  loue  off  Ihesus, 
That  he  of  hys  sawle  haue  pyte, 
And  off  owrys,  iff  hys  wyll  be, 

When  we  schall  wend  J>er-to. 
And  30  \>at  haue  herd  ]>at,  talkynge, 
3e  schall  haue  )>e  blyssinge 

Of  Ihesu  cryst  Ail-so. 

[Finis.'] 


LIBIUS    DISCONIUS. 


499 


Cotton,  Calig.  A.  ii.fol.  57,  col.  2. 

And  >onkede  godes  myjtes, 
Artourc  and  hys  knyjtes, 

p«t  he  ne  hadde  no  schame. 
Artoure  yaf  here  al  so  *  blyue, 
Lybeauus  to  be  hys  wyfe, 

pat  was  so  gentylle  a  dame. 

pe  loye  of  pat  bredale 
Nys  not  told  yn  tale, 

Ne  rekened  yn  no  gest. 
Barons  and  lordynges  fale 
Come  to  }>at  semyly  sale, 

And  ladyes  welle  honeste. 

per  was  ryche  seruyse 

Of  alle  pat  men  kou>  deuyse, 

To  lest  &  ek  to  mest. 
pe  menstrales  yn  bourc  &  hallo 
Hadde  ryche  yftes  w/tA-alle, 

And  f>oy  pat  weryn  vnwrest. 

Fourty  dayes  pcj  dwellede 
And  hare  feste  helde 

With  artoure  pe  kyng. 
As  pe  frenssche  tale  teld, 
Artourc  with  knyjtes  beld 

At  hom  gan  hem  brynge. 

Felo  ^ere  J>ey  leuede  yn-same 
With  moche  gle  &  game, 

Lybeauus  &  >rtt  swete 
Ihc.su  cryst  ourc  sauyourc, 
And  hys  moderc  \>at  swete  flourc, 

Grauwte  vs  alle  good  endynge. 

Amon. 

Explicit  libeauus  desconus. 


Lambeth  MS.  306,  leaf  106. 

They  thanked  god  with  al  his  myghti's, 
Arthur  and  alle  his  knyghU's, 

That  he  hade  no  shame. 
Arthur  gave  als  blyve 
Lybeous  that  lady  to  wyfe, 

That  was  so  gentille  a  damo. 

The  myrrowr  of  that  brydale 
No  man  myght  tellc  with  tale 

In  Ryme  nor  in  geste. 
In  that  semely  Saale 
Were  lordys  many  and  falo, 

And  ladies  fulle  honeste. 

There  was  Riche  Sen-ice 
Botlie  to  lorde  and  ladyes, 

To  leste  and  eke  to  moste. 
Thare  were  gevyn  riche  gifU's, 
Euche  mynstrale  her  thrifts, 

And  some  that  were  vnbrest. 

ffourty  dayes  thei  dwelden, 
And  ther  here  feste  helden 

With  Arthur  the  kynge, 
As  the  ffrensshe  tale  vs  tolde. 
Arthur  kyng,  with  his  knyghtw  bold»% 

Home  he  gonne  hem  brynge. 

Sovyn  yere  they  levid  same 
With  mekylle  loye  and  game, 

He  and  that  swete  thynge. 
Nowe  Ihfsu  Criste  oure  Saviouro, 
And  his  moder,  that  swote  floure, 

Grawnte  vs  gode  Endynge !     Amen. 

Explicit  libious  Disconyus. 


MS.  also. 


500 


C6  t'ltre 

THIS  piece  has  been  already  printed  from  the  Folio,  just  as  it  is 
by  Jamieson  in  his  Popular  Ballads  and  Songs  (1806). 

The  other  versions  of  the  old  ballad  are,  Gil  Morice  given  by 
Percy  in  the  Reliques  from  a  printed  edition  current  in  Scot 
land,  Child  Noryce  and  Chield  Morice  given  by  Motherwell 
from  recitations,  3  stanzas  of  a  traditional  version  given  by 
Jamieson.  The  number  of  these  versions  shows  how  popular  the 
ballad  was.  Another  proof  is  its  use  by  Langhorne,  by  Home,  and 
others,  as  the  basis  of  longer,  more  pretentious  works.  Of  the 
said  versions  Gil  Morice  and  Chield  Morice  closely  resemble  each 
other,  and  are  infinitely  less  forcible  than  the  other  two.  They 
are  intolerably  prolix.  The  fire  is  quenched  with  much  water. 
They  are  the  offspring  of  men  who  possessed  the  faculty  of  Midas 
with  a  difference — they  turned  everything  they  touched  into 
dross.  The  other  two  versions  are  admirably  terse  and  vigorous, 
and  have  a  right  to  places  in  the  first  ranks  of  our  ballad-poetry. 
Undoubtedly  the  less  corrupted  is  the  Folio  version ;  but,  un 
happily,  it  is  somewhat  imperfect. 

This  is  indeed  a  noble  specimen  of  our  ballad-poetry  in  all  its 
strength.  For  the  overpowering  vigour  of  its  objective  style  it 
may  be  compared  with  Little  Musgrave  and  Lady  Bernard. 
How  vivid  every  picture  it  paints  is !  how  effective  every  stroke ! 
Not  a  word  is  wasted.  The  writer  is  too  absorbed  in  the  action 
of  his  piece  to.  indulge  in  any  comments,  or  moralisings,  or 
superfluities  of  any  sort. 

Semper  ad  eventum  festinat,  et  in  medias  res, 
Non  secus  ac  notas,  auditorem  rapit. 


vid.  Scottish  Edition  which  is  evidently  a  modern  Improvement. — P. 


CHILDE    MAURICE.  501 

This  abstinence  from  all  reflections  and  sentimentalities  is  in 
describably  impressive.  The  ballad-writer  of  later  times  is  too 
often  like  the  guide  who  introduces  the  traveller  to  a  fine 
cathedral,  and  disturbs  the  glorious  effect  of  the  sight  with  his 
intrusive  conceited  garrulity.  This  old  writer  presents  us  with 
a  wonderful  spectacle  without  putting  in  ever  a  word  of  his  own. 
You  forget  the  guide,  and  are  given  up  wholly  to  the  effect  of 
the  spectacle.  If  we  could  never  consider  the  heavens  without 
having  suggested  to  us  the  names  of  the  stars  and  their  sizes  and 
distances  from  the  earth  !  This  old  writer  is  content  to  let  his 
tale  produce  its  own  effect.  He  conceives  it  in  all  its  tremendous 
force,  too  really  to  permit  him  to  criticise  or  dally  with  it  in 
any  way.  Feeling  much,  he  says  little.  Hence  the  intensity  of 
his  narration. 

What  strange  wild  pictures  he  paints !    The  Child  in  the  silver 

wood, 

sitting  on  a  block 
With  a  silver  comb  in  his  hand, 
Kembing  his  yellow  lock. 

— the  foot-page  hasting  on  his  errand  with  the  presents  of  the 
grass-green  mantle  and  of  the  gold  and  precious  stone  rings — 
the  husband  and  his  wife's  son  drying  on  the  grass  or  a  sleeve 
their  bright  brown  swords — the  victor,  his  supposed  rival's  head 
cut  off,  how  he 

pricked  it  on  his  sword's  point, 

Went  singing  there  beside, 
And  lie  rode  till  he  came  to  the  lady  fair 

Whereas  this  lady  lied, 
&  says  "  Dost  thou  know  Child  Maurice  head 

If  that  thou  dost  it  see  ? 
And  lap  it  soft  and  kiss  it  oft, 

For  thou  lovedst  him  better  than  me. 

— the  mother  recognising  in  her  slain  lover  her  one  only  son. 
That  terrible  passage  in  the  Bacchce  of  Euripides,  where  the 
scales  fall  from  Agave's  eyes,  naturally  suggests  itself  as  one 
looks  at  that  last  picture;  though  there,  indeed,  the  horror  of 


502 


CHILDE    MAURICE. 


the  situation  is  deepened  by  the  fact  that  her  own  hands  have 
done  the  deed  : 

fa,  Tt  \evffff6D  ;  rl  <pe'po/xcu  r<5 

Then  answers  Cadmus  : 

&0pr]ffov  avrb  Kal  ffatyeffrfpov 


Child 
Maurice, 
while 
hunting, 


tells  his 
footpage 


to  go  to  John 

Steward's 

wife, 


greet  her  as 
many  times 
as  there  are 
knots  on  a  , 
net, 


and  ask  her 


AF,     6p<2  /j.4yi<TTOv  &\yos  y  Td\au/'  eyci). 
KA.     fj,cav  ffot  Aeoj/Ti  <paii>€Tai  irpo<reiK€t>ai  ; 
Ar.     otf/c  '  aAAa  riej/0ea>s  77  Ta\aiv  l^w  ndpa. 


(jHILDE  Maurice  hunted  ithe  siluen l  wood, 

he  hunted  itt  round  about, 
&  noebodye  that  he  ffound  therin, 
4         nor  none  there  was  with-out. 

2  &  he  tooke  his  siluer  combe  in  his  hand, 

to  kembe  his  yellow  lockes  ; 
he  sayes,  "  come  hither,  thou  litle  ffoot  page, 
8         that  runneth  3  lowlye  by  my  knee  ; 
ffor  thou  shalt  goe  to  lohn  stewards  wifle 
&  pray  her  speake  w^th  mee. 

"  &  as  itt  ffalls  out  many  times, 
12         as  knotts  beene  knitt  on  a  kell,4 

or  Marchant  men  gone  to  Leeue  London 
either  to  buy  ware  or  sell, 

"  I,  and  greete  thou  doe  that  Ladye  well, 
16         euer  soe  well  ffroe  mee, — 

And  as  itt  fialles  out  many  times  [page  347] 

as  any  hart  can  thinke, 


1  The  downstroke  of  the  r  of  siluen  is 
made  twice  over. — F. 

2  Prof.  Child  dots  two  lines  as  miss 
ing,  before  lines  5,  15,  &  21,  and  after 
line  64.     Ballads  ii.  313-16. — F. 

3  MS.  rumeth.— F. 

4  Kelle,  reticulum,  retiaculum  (Catho- 
licon).     Reticula  a  lytell  nette  or  kalle. 
Reticinellum,  a   kalle  (Ortus)  .  .  .  The 
fashion  of  confining  the  hair  in  an  orna 


mental  network,  which  occasionally  was 
jewelled,  seems  to  have  obtained  in 
England  from  the  time  of  Henry  III. 
until  that  of  Elizabeth,  and  an  endless 
variety  of  examples  are  afforded  by 
illuminated  MSS.  and  monumental  effi 
gies.  It  was  termed  calle  or  kelle,  a 
term  directly  taken,  perhaps,  from  the 
French  cole.  Latin  calantica  or  callus. 
Way  'mPromptorium,  p.  270,  note  *. — F. 


CHILDE    MAUKICE. 


503 


"  as  schoole  masters  are  in  any  schoole  house 
20         writting  with  pen  and  linke, — 
ffor  if  I  might,  as  well  as  shee  may, 
this  night  I  wold  w^th  her  speake. 

"  &  heere  I  send  her  a  mantle  of  greene, 
24         as  greene  as  any  grasse, 

&  bidd  her  come  to  the  siluer  wood 
to  hunt  with  Child  Maurice  ; 

"  &  there  I  send  her  a  ring  of  gold, 
28         a  ring  of  precyous  stone, 

&  bidd  her  come  to  the  siluer  wood  ; 
let  ffor  no  kind  of  man." 

one  while  this  litle  boy  he  yode, 
32         another  while  he  ran  ; 

vntill  he  came  to  lohn  Stewards  hall, 
I-wis  he  neuer  blan. 

&  of  nurture  the  child  had  good ; 
36         hee  ran  vp  hall  &  bower  ffree, 
&  when  he  came  to  this  Lady  ffaire, 
sayes,  "  god  you  saue  and  see  ! 

"  I  am  come  ffrom  Ch[i]ld  Maurice, 
40         a  message  vnto  thee  ; 

&  Child  Maurice,  he  greetcs  you  well, 
&  euer  soe  well  ffrom  mee. 

"  &  as  itt  ffalls  out  oftentimes, 
44         as  knotts  beene  knitt  on  a  kell, 

or  Marchant  men  gone  to  leeue  London, 
either  ffor  to  buy  ware  or  sell, 

"  &  as  oftentimes  he  greetes  you  well 
48         as  any  hart  can  thinke, 

or  schoolemas/ers  in  any  schoole 
wryting  with  pen  and  inke  ; 


to  come  and 
hunt  with 
him. 


lie  sends  her 
a  ring. 


The  footpagc 
goes  to  John 
Steward's 
haU, 


and  givet 
the  lady 


Child 
Manrice't- 
message : 


he  greets 
her  as  many 
times  as 
there  are 
knots  on 
her  cap, 


504 


CHILDE   MAURICE. 


he  sends  her 
a  green 
mantle 


"  &  heere  lie  sends  a  Mantle  of  greene, 
52         as  greene  as  any  grasse, 

&  he  bidds  you  come  to  the  siluer  wood, 
to  hunt  w^th  Child  Maurice. 


and  a  gold 
ring, 


and  begs  her 
to  come  to 
the  wood  to 
him. 


John 
Steward 
overhears 
this, 

orders  his 
steed 


and  armour, 


rides  to  the 
wood, 


"  &  heere  he  sends  you  a  ring  of  gold, 
56         a  ring  of  the  precyous  stone, 

he  prayes  you  to  come  to  the  siluer  wood, 
let  ffor  no  kind  of  man." 

"  now  peace,  now  peace,  thou  litle  ffootpage, 
60         ffor  Christes  sake,  I  pray  thee  ! 

iFor  if  my  lore?  heare  one  of  these  words, 
thou  must  be  hanged  hye  !  " 

lohn  steward  stood  vnder  the  Castle  wall, 
64         &  he  wrote  the  words  euerye  one, 

&  he  called  vnto  his  horskeeper, 
"  make  readye  you  my  steede  !  " 

I,  and  soe  hee  did  to  his  Chamberlaine, 
68         "  make  readye  then  my  weede !  " 

&  he  cast  a  lease  l  vpon  his  backe, 

&  he  rode  to  the  siluer  wood ; 
&  there  he  sought  all  about, 
72         about  the  siluer  wood, 


finds  Child 
Maurice, 


and  asks 
what  he 
means. 


&  there  he  ffound  him  Child  Maurice 

sitting  vpon  a  blocke, 
wt'th  a  siluer  combe  in  his  hand 
76         kembing  his  yellow  locke. 

he  sayes,  "  how  now,  how  now,  Child  Maurice  ? 

alacke  !  how  may  this  bee  ?  " 
but  then  stood  vp  him  Child  Maurice, 
80         &  sayd  these  words  trulye  : 


?  leash,  thong,  cord.     See  lees,  Use  in  Halliwell.— F. 


CHILDE    MAURICE. 


505 


"  I  doe  not  know  yo^r  Ladye,"  he  said, 

11  if  that  I  doe  her  see." 
"  ffor  thou  hast  sent  her  loue  tokens, 
84         more  now  then  2  or  3  ; 

"  ffor  thou  hast  sent  her  a  Mantle  of  greene, 

as  greene  as  any  grasse, 
&  bade  her  come  to  the  siluer  woode 
88         to  hunt  with  Child  Maurice ; 


The  Child 
says  he 
doesn't  know 
John's  wife. 
"And  yet 
you've  sent 
her  love- 
tokens, 


a  green 
mantle, 


"  &  thou  [hast]  sent  her  a  ring  of  gold, 

a  ring  of  precyous  stone, 
&  bade  Jier  come  to  the  siluer  wood, 
92         let  ffor  noe  kind  of  man. 

"  and  by  my  ffaith,  now,  Child  Maurice, 

the  tone  of  vs  shall  dye  !  " 
"  Now  be  my  troth,"  sayd  Child  Maurice, 
96         "&  Mat  shall  not  be  I." 


[page  348J 


and  a  gold 
ring, 


and  bade 
her  come  to 
the  wood  to 
you! 


One  of  us 
shall  die." 


but  hee  pulled  forth  a  bright  browne  l  sword 

&  dryed  itt  on  the  grasse, 
&  soe  ffast  he  smote  att  lohn  Steward, 
100         I-wisse  he  neuer  rest. 


then  hee  pulled  fforth  his  bright  browne  sword, 

&  dryed  itt  on  his  sleeue  ; 
&  the  ffirst  good  stroke  John  stewart  stroke, 
104         Child  Maurice  head  he  did  cleeue  ; 


John  draws 
his  sword, 
splits  the 
Child's  head, 


&  he  pricked  itt  on  his  swords  poynt, 

went  singing  there  beside, 
&  he  rode  till  he  came  to  that  Ladye  ffaire 
108         wheras  this  ladye  Lyed  ; 


carries  it  on 
his  sword- 
point  to  his 
wife, 


VOL.  II. 


1  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 
L   L 


506 


CHILDE    MAURICE. 


and  tells  her 
to  kiss  it. 


She  says 


killed  her 
only  child. 


John 

Steward 
reproaches 
his  men  for 
not  staying 
him  in  his 
wrath ; 


and  sayes,  "  dost  thou  know  Child  Maurice  head 

if  thai  thou  dost  itt  see  ? 
&  lapp  itt  soft,  &  kisse  itt  offt, 
112         ffor  thou  louedst  him  better  then  mee." 

but  when  shee  looked  on  Child  Maurice  head, 

shee  neuer  spake  words  but  3, 

"  I  neuer  beare  no  Child  but  one, 

116         &  you  haue  slaine  him  truly e." 

sayes,  "  wicked  be  my  merrymen  all, 

I  gaue  Meate,  drinke,  &  Clothe ! 
but  cold  they  not  haue  holden  me 
120         when  I  was  in  all  thai  wrath  ? 


he  has  slain 
his  wife  and 
her  son. 


124 


"  ffor  I  haue  slaine  one  of  the  curteouse[s]t  'Knights 

that  euer  bestrode  a  steed ! 
soe  haue  I  done  one  [of]  the  fairest  Ladyes 

that  euer  ware  womans  weede  !  " 

ffins. 


507 


lftf  fton 

HERE  apparently  one  endeavours  to  reconcile  an  offended  swain 
to  his  offending  mistress.  He  had  begged  a  kiss,  it  would  seem, 
and  been  denied  it;  had  concluded  that  his  Phillis  cared  nothing 
for  him.  Deaf  to  all  the  pleas  urged  in  her  behalf,  he  rejoices 
that  he  has  escaped  from  her.  We  do  not  know  any  other  copy 
of  the  song. 

SHEPARDES  hoc  !  Shepards  hoe  ! 
harkes  how  Phillis1  calles  tliee  !  La:   La  :  La  : 
Pliilis  hoe:  Phillis  hoe  ! 
4     "  shall  I  lose  my  Phillis  ?  noe,  iioe,  noe  !  " 


"  what  ailes  thee  Shepard  [that  thou]  looke  soe  sadd  ?   Why 


where  is  thy  louely  lasse  sliold  make  thee  gladd  r  " 
"  ay  me  !  my  mistress  proues  vntrue, 
8     &  my  louely  lasse  bidcls  me  adew  !  " 

"  Shepards,  ffye  !   Sheperds,  ffye  ! 

doe  not  wrong  thy  lasse,  &  noe  cause  whye." 

"  Phillis  noe,  Phillis  noe  ! 
12     but  if  shee  proue  light  in  loue,  He  let  her  goe." 

thus  wee  poore  mayds  must  beare  the  blame, 

w/a'ch  2  inconstant  men  deserue  the  same. 

if  ouglit  be  ill,  tis  our  amisse, 
16     but  a  womans  word  is  noe  iudge  in  this. 

"  Come  away  !  Come  away  ! 
see  !  the  louelye  lasse  tripps  ore  the  lay." 
"  lett  her  goe  !  lett  her  goe  ! 
20     neuer  more  shall  my  loue  say  mee  noe/' 


sad  V 


are  you 


"My  love  is 
false." 


No,  she  is 
not. 


Come  and 
look  at  her. 


"  Not  I,  let 
her  go. 


1  The  first  I  is  much  like  an  s  in  the 
MS.     The  colons  in  lines  2  and  3  are 


those  of  the  MS.     Before  the  first  La 
Percy  inserts  hoe. — F.         2  while.-  P. 
2 


508 


PHILLIS    HOE. 


She 

wouldn't 
kiss  me  1" 


24 


"  ffye  shepard  !  thou  thy  lone  dost  wrong  ! 
ffor  maides,  the  dare  not  doe  amidst  a  throng." 
"  0,  beg  I  did  but  one  pore  kisse ; 
but  shee  witla.  coy  disdaine  said  noe  by  lys. l" 


Don't  be 
jealous, 


"  lelous  loue,  lelous  loue, 

herafter  doth  vnconstant  proue." 

"  many  ffind,2  many  ffind 
28     women  &  their  words  are  like  the  winde. 

men  sweare  the  loue,  &  do  protest ; 

but  when  a  woman  sweares,  shee  doth  but  lest. 

who  lestes  w^'th  loue,  playes  with  a  bayte 
32     that  doth  wound  the  hart  w^'th  slye  deceipte." 


love  your 
love  again ; 


women  must 
have  their 
way. 


"  Shepards  swaine,  Shepards  swaine, 

let  thy  lasse  inioy  thy  loue  againe  ! 

Iff  maids  pray,  if  maids  pray, 
36     women  in  their  wants  will  haue  noe  nay ; 

thus  women  they  must  learne  to  wooe, 

when  men  fforgetts  what  nature  bidds  them  do." 

"  if  women  wooe,  tis  much  abuse, 
40     tho  cuningly  they  coyne  3  a  coy  excuse." 


"No,  I'm  not 
such  a  fool. 


We  shep 
herds  are  as 
coy  as 
kings." 


"  Haples  shee,  hapless  shee 
that  doth  loue  4  soe  base  a  swaine  as  thee  ! 
"happye  I,  happye  I : 

44     that  ffortune  haue  such  ffolly  for  to  fflye  ! 
base  minds  to  basenes  still  will  fflee, 
but  honor  in  an  honored  hart  doth  lye. 
tho  base,  my  mind  true  honor  brings ; 


ffins. 


48     [w]ee  shepards  in  our  loues  are  as  coy  as  Kings." 


1  noe  Iwis.— P. 

2  There  is  a  tag  to  the  d.— F. 


8  MS.  coyme. — F. 

4  Three  strokes  for  the  «.— F. 


509 


[In  3  Parts.— P.] 

"  GrUY  &  PIIILLIS  "  is  simply  a  resume,  with  some  slight  additions 
from  other  sources,  of  the  old  romance  of  Guy  of  Wanuick ;  "  Guy 
&  Amaranth  "  and  "  Gruy  &  Colbrand  "  are  versions,  one  modern, 
by  Samuel  Rowlands,  the  other  much  older,  of  scenes  in  that 
romance. 

The  presence  in  the  MS.  Folio  of  three  pieces  dealing  with 
Sir  Griiy  is  a  sign  of  the  immense  popularity  he  enjoyed,  if  any 
sign  were  needed.  But  indeed  there  is  no  lack  of  evidence  of 
his  warm  acceptance  with  the  Middle  Ages  as  well  in  foreign 
countries  as  in  England.  Certainly  among  the  heroes  of  romance 
he  was  one  of  the  most  popular.  At  home,  Arthur,  and  Sir 
Bevis,  and  he,  surpassed  all  others  in  the  extent  and  endurance 
of  the  admiration  they  attracted.  There  is  nothing  more  touching 
anywhere  than  the  story  of  the  last  moments  i)f  Gfuy.  Such  was 
its  intrinsic  interest,  that  it  won  the  ear  of  the  world  solely  on 
the  strength  of  it ;  for  the  story  seems  never  to  have  been  worthily 
told.  Not  one  of  the  three  poems  treasured  up  in  the  Folio 
is  of  any  considerable  literary  value.  Nor  can  higher  praise  be 
bestowed  on  the  old  romance.  "  Guy  of  Warwick,"  says  Ellis, 
"  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  ancient  and  popular,  and  no  less 
certainly  one  of  the  dullest  and  most  tedious  of  our  early 
romances."  Dull  and  tedious  it  emphatically  is.  This  jewel 
then  has  never  yet  been  skilfully  set.  But  its  preciousness  was 
appreciated  in  spite  of  the  rude  craftsmen  into  whose  hands  it 

1  A  curious  old  Song,  but  very  incorrect. — P. 


510  GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 

had  fallen.     Its  lustre  glorified  its  clumsy  encasements  as  the 
beauty  of  the  beggar-maid  her  unworthy  dress. 

As  shines  the  moon  in  cloudy  skies 
She  in  her  poor  attire  was  seen. 

The  oldest  form  in  which  we  have  the  story  is  that  of  an  Anglo- 
Norman  romance,  Eomanz  de  Grin  de  Warwyk,  extant,  as  Eitson 
informs  us,  in  the  library  of  Corpus  Christi  College,  Cambridge 
(1.  6),  and  in  the  University  Library  (More  690),  Harl.  MSS. 
No.  3775,  King's  MSS.  8  F.  ix.  There  are  two  fragments  of  it 
in  the  Bodleian  (printed  in  the  British  Bibliographer,  iii.  268  ; 
see  Introduction  to  the  Abbotsford  Club  edition  of  the  copy  of 
the  English  romance  in  the  Auchinleck  MS.).  Other  fragments 
were  found  in  the  cover  of  an  old  book  by  Sir  Thomas  Phillips. 
There  is  also  a  copy  in  the  Bibl.  Imperial  e  (MSS.  de  Colbert, 
4289),  Paris.  There  was  a  copy  at  Bruges  in  1467,  at  Brussels 
in  1487,  as  we  learn  from  Barrois'  account  of  the  Librairies  du 
Fils  du  Eoi  Jean  Charles  V.,  &c.  (See  Gruy  de  Warwick, 
Abbotsford  Club,  Introduction.)  This  French  work  was  com 
posed  probably  in  the  thirteenth  century.  Its  composer  may 
possibly  have  been  Walter  of  Exeter,  as  is  stated  by  Carew  in  his 
Survey  of  Cormvall.  Whoever  composed  it,  and  wherever,  it 
was  done  into  English  early  in  the  fourteenth  century,  which 
English  version  is  mentioned  in  the  Prologue  to  Hampole's 
Speculum  Vitce,  or  Mirrour  of  Life,  written  about  1350,  amongst 
the  popularities  of  the  day  : 

I  warne  you  firste  at  the  begynnynge 

That  I  will  make  no  vayne  carpynge 

Of  dedes  of  armes,  ne  of  amours, 

As  does  mynstellis  &  gestours, 

That  maketh  carpynge  in  many  a  place 

Of  Octavione  &  Isenbrace, 

And  of  many  other  gestes 

And  namely  when  they  come  to  festes, 

Ne  of  the  lyf  of  Bevis  of  Hamptoune 

That  was  a  knyght  of  grete  renoune, 

Ne  of  Syr  Gye  of  Warwyke.     (apud  Warton,  II.  Eng.,  P.) 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE.  511 

and  by  Chaucer  in  t\\eRime  of  Sir  Topas  (about  1380)  as  one  of 
the  romances  of  price  of  his  day.  Of  it  the  oldest  copy  extant  is 
preserved  in  the  Auchinleck  MS.  There  are  others  in  Caius 
College  and  the  Public  Libraries,  Cambridge.  It  was  still  in 
demand  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  was  then  printed  by 
Copland,  and  by  Cawood.  The  romance  was  then  condensed,  as 
was  the  custom,  into  a  ballad.  In  159^  Richard  Jones  has 
entered  on  the  .Register  of  the  Stationers'  Company  "  A  pleasante 
songe  of  the  valiant  actes  of  Guy  of  Warwicke  to  the  tune  of  Was 
ever  man  so  tost  in  love."  This  is  the  "  Guy  &  Phillis  "  of  the 
present  volume.  The  common  title,  says  Percy,  is  "  A  pleasant 
song  of  the  valiant  deeds  of  chivalry  atchieved  by  that  noble 
knight  Sir  Guy  of  Warwick,  who  for  the  love  of  fair  Phelis  became 
a  hermit  &  dyed  in  a  cave  of  craggy  rocke,  a  mile  distant  from 
Warwick."  Of  this  ballad  there  are  copies  in  the  Bagford,  the 
Pepys,  and  the  Roxburghe  Collections.  The  legend  was  after 
wards  rendered  into  prose,  and  in  that  shape  printed  again  and 
again  down  to  very  recent  times.  In  the  British  Museum  Library 
there  is  a  copy  of  the  7th  edition  of  a  cheap  printed  prose  version, 
1733.  Ellis  speaks  of  this  popular  form  as  "to  be  found  at 
almost  every  stall  in  the  metropolis."  The  Anglo-Norman  ro 
mance  was  converted  into  prose  in  1525. 

But  the  story  was  not  given  up  wholly  to  the  romance-writers 
and  their  followers.     The  <  other  recital  of  it  now  extant 

may  possibly  be  that  ascribed  to  Gerard  of  Cornwall,  printed  by 
Hearne  in  the  Appendix  to  his  edition  of  the  Annales  de  Dun- 
stable.  This  Historia  Guidonis  de  Werwyke  is  preserved  in 
MS.  147,  Magd.  Coll.  Oxford.  "  There  is  not  however  anything 
else  of  Gerard's  in  the  Magd.  MS.  (which  the  compiler  has  seen), 
and  the  short  piece  which  has  been  printed  is  written  at  the  end 
of  Higden's  Polychronicon,  on  the  same  page  with  it,  and 
preceding  its  copious  index."  (See  Macray's  Manual  of  British 
Historians.)  Of  Gerard's  date  and  life  nothing  whatever  is 


512  GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 

known.  "  He  is  said  to  have  written  a  book  De  Gestis  Britonum, 
and  another  De  Gestis  Regum  West-tfaxonum,  which  are  referred 
to  three  times  by  Th.  Eudburn  in  his  History  of  Winchester.  Thin 
also  mentions  him  in  his  catalogue  of  historians  in  HolinsKed, 
p.  1590."  This  piece,  whenever  written  and  by  whomsoever, 
describes  the  famous  fight  with  Colbrand  much  as  the  Folio  MS. 
version  narrates  it.  An  entry  in  the  Registry  of  the  priory  at 
Winchester,  quoted  by  Warton  in  his  History  of  English  Poetry, 
tells  us  that  when  Adam  de  Orleten,  bishop  of  Winchester,  visited 
his  cathedral  priory  of  St.  S within  in  that  city,  "  Cantabat  jocu- 
lator  quidam,  nomine  Herebertus,  Canticum  Colbrondi,  necnon 
gestum  Emme  regine,  a  judicio  ignis  liberate  in  aula  prioris." 
The  first  certain  historical  mention  of  the  great  Saxon  champion 
is  to  be  found,  as  Eitson  points  out,  in  the  Eobert  de  Brunne's 
translation  with  additions,  made  circ.  1338,  of  Peter  Langtoft's 
Chronicle,  written  circ.  1308. 

That  was  Guy  of  Warwik,  as  the  boke  sais, 
There  he  slouh  Colbrant  with  hache  Daneis. 

The  story  of  Gruy's  abnegation  of  his  wife,  and  his  lonely  uncom- 
forted  end  in  the  cell  he  had  hewn  for  himself,  is  told  in  chapter 
clxxii.  of  the  Gesta  Romanorum,  compiled  in  all  probability 
about  the  same  time  with  Langtoft's  Chronicle.  This  compilation, 
made  to  serve  mediseval  preachers  for  purposes  of  illustration, 
naturally  took  that  part  of  the  story  that  exemplified  their 
favourite  teachings.  Towards  the  end  of  the  same,  the  fourteenth 
century,  Henry  Knighton,  Canon  of  Leicester,  in  his  Chronicon 
de  Eventibus  Anglice  ab  anno  950  ad  1395,  recounted  the  old 
tale  at  full  length.  He  introduces  it  with  a  sort  of  apology. 
"  Set  quia  historia  dicti  Gruidonis,"  he  writes,  "  cunctis  seculis 
laudabili  memoria  commendanda  est,  in  presenti  historia  immiscere 
curavi."  Then  he  relates,  with  circumstances,  how  "  Olavus  rex 
DaciaB,"  "  Golanus  rex  Norwegise,"  and  "  dux  Neustrise,"  invaded 
England  and  besieged  King  Athelstan  for  a  space  of  two  years 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE.  513 

in  Winchester.  They  had  enlisted  in  the  service  of  their  expe 
dition  a  vast  Saracen,  "de  Africa  quendam  gigantem,  Colebrandum 
nomine,  qui  eo  tempore  fortissimus  et  elegantissimus  reputabatur 
in  orbe,"  described  subsequently  as  "  diabolica9  staturoe,"  and  by 
Gray  when  he  stands  face  to  face  with  him  as  "  non  homo,  immo 
potius  spiritus  diaboli  in  effigie  hominis  latens."  Eventually  a 
truce,  "  treuga,"  was  agreed  to,  and  the  determining  of  the  war 
by  a  single  combat.  But  there  seemed  scant  hope  of  finding  a 
match  for  Colebrand,  who  was  of  course  put  forward  to  maintain 
the  Scandinavian  cause.  Then  follows,  as  in  "Guy&  Colbrand," 
an  account  of  the  vision  that  appeared  to  the  perplexed  King 
Athenian,  and  how,  obeying  it,  and  posting  himself  "  ad  altam 
primam  "  at  one  of  the  city's  gates,  he  saw  amongst  the  entering 
crowd  "  virum  elegantem  cursantem,  de  una  sclauma  alba  vestitum, 
et  unum  sertum  de  albis  rosis  in  capite  tectum,  fustemque  grandem 
in  manu  ferentem ;  set  multum  erat  debilitatus  et  discoloratus 
anxietateque  minoratus,  eo  quod  nudipes  laboravit,  barbamque 
prolixam  habuit."  This  wild  woe-begone  figure  was  Guy — Guy 
in  deep  distress  for  his  sins,  and  caring  only  to  escape  from  hos 
pitalities  to  pray  for  indulgence  and  pardon.  But  he  is  moved 
at  last  to  undertake  the  combat  with  the  giant.  "  Fecit  se  armari 
de  melioribus  armaturis  regis,  et  cinxit  se  gladio  Constantini  [the 
sword  of  Constantino  the  Great  and  the  spear  of  Charlemagne 
were  among  the  presents  given  to  Athelstan  by  Hugh,  Duke  of 
the  Franks]  lanceamque  sancti  Mauricii  in  manu  tulit."  Then 
the  fight  is  described  with  extreme  minuteness.  Colbrand  seems 
overpowering  till  Guy  cuts  off  his  sword-arm ;  "  Quod  Dani 
videntes,  multum  ex  hoc  contabuerunt,  et  Deos  suos  in  Colu- 
brandi  adjutorum  cum  ejulatu  magno  invocare  cceperunt."  And 
then  comes  the  final  scene  in  the  hero's  life. 

In  1410,  as  Dugdale  (Baron,  i.  243)  relates  on  the  authority 
of  Rous,  to  whom  we  shall  come  presently,  Guy's  fame  was  well 
spread  abroad  at  Jerusalem  ;  for  the  Soldan's  lieutenant  hearing 


514  GUY    AND    COLEBRANDE. 

that  Lord  Beauchamp,  then  travelling  in  the  Holy  Land,  "  was 
descended  from  the  famous  Guy  of  Warwick,  whose  story  they 
had  in  books  of  their  own  language,  invited  him  to  his  palace ; 
and  royally  feasting  him  presented  him  with  three  precious  stones 
of  great  value,  besides  divers  cloaths  of  silk  and  gold  given  to  his 
servants."  The  history  of  Sir  Guy,  as  Percy  points  out  (Reliques, 
vol.  iii.),  "  is  alluded  to  in  the  old  Spanish  romance,  (  Tiran+e 
el  bianco '  which,  it  is  believed,  was  written  not  long  after  the 
year  1430."  About  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century  Eudburn, 
who  has  been  mentioned  above  in  a  quotation,  a  Benedictine 
of  Winchester,  called  Junior  to  distinguish  him  from  another 
chronicler  of  the  same  name  who  died  Bishop  of  St.  David's  in 
1441,  gives  some  account  of  the  great  combat.  Leland  in  his 
Collectanea,  fol.  595,  quotes  "  ex  chronicis  Thomse  Eudbourne 
monachi  Wintonensis "  this  amongst  other  passages  :  "  Tertio 
Ethelstani  anno,  duellum  inter  Colbrondum  Danum  &  Guidonem 
comitem  de  Warwik,  extra  borealem  civitatis  Wintoniensis  pla- 
gam,  in  loco  qui  modo  Hidemede,  olim  Denmarsch  appellatus  est, 
prope  monasterium  de  Hida.  Insignum  vero  victories  servatur 
sica  prsedicti  Colbronde  gigantis,  cumqua  truncatum  erat ;  caput 
ejus  a  Guidone  comite  de  Warwik  in  eccl.  cathedrali  Wintoniae 
usque  in  hodiernum  diem.1  Eudbourne  describes  the  fight  more 
fully  in  his  Historia  Major  Wintonensis  (apud  Wharton's  Anglia 
Sacra).  There  the  "Eex  Dacorum  "  is  "  Anelaf ; "  the  scene  of 
the  combat  is  Hyde  Mede  ;  the  "  gigas  "  is  "  mirse  longitudinis, 
invisus,  inhumanus  ac  non  malse  meditationis  ignarus."  Lydgate, 
contemporary  with  Eudbourne,  versified  the  above-mentioned  His- 
toria  Guidonis  de  Werwyke  just  as  Samuel  Eowland,  something 
more  than  a  century  after  him,  retold  the  conflict  of  Guy  with 
Amaranth  in  the  form  given  in  this  volume.  Lydgate's  work, 
never  yet  printed,  is  preserved  among  the  Bodleian  MSS.  and 

1  "This   history   remained    in    rude       transept    of    the   cathedral   till   within 
painting  against  the  walls  of  the  north       my  memory."     Warton.  H.  E.  P. 


GUY    AND    COLEBRANDE.  515 

in  Harl.  MS.  7333  f.  35.  b.1  Revised  by  one  Lane,  it  was 
licensed  to  be  printed  in  1617  (Harl.  MSS.  5243),1  but  the  licence 
seems  never  to  have  been  acted  upon.  Later  on,  in  the  latter 
half  of  the  fifteenth  century,  John  Rons,  appointed  priest,  or  one 
of  the  two  priests,  at  the  chapel  at  Guy's  Cliff  near  Warwick 
(erected,  with  a  statue  of  Guy,  by  Richard  Beauchamp  in  1422), 
"  labored  and  finished  "  a  "  roll  "  (now  in  the  Ashmolean  Museum, 
Oxford,  numbered  839)  containing  a  biography  of  him  in  whose 
honour  he  held  his  office,  for  whose  soul  he  offered  daily  prayers. 
Dugdale  pronounces  him  "  a  diligent  searcher  after  antiquities, 
and  especially  of  this  county,"  and  one  that  "  hath  left  behind 
him  divers  notable  things,  industriously  gathered  from  many 
choice  manuscripts,  whereof  he  had  perusal  in  sundry  monastries 
in  England  and  Wales,  which  now,  through  the  fatal  subversion 
of  those  houses,  are  for  the  most  part  perisht."  Rons  narrates  as 
sober  facts  the  story  of  the  romance  : 

Dame  Felys,  daughter  and  heireto  Erie  Rohancl,  for  her  beauty  called 
Felyle  belle,  or  Felys  the  fayre  by  true  enheritance,  was  countesse 
of  Warwyke,  and  lady  and  wyfe  to  the  most  victoriouse  Knight,  Sir 
Guy,  to  whome  in  his  woinge  tyme  she  made  greate  straungenes,  and 
caused  him  for  her  sake,  to  put  himself  in  meny  greate  distresse,  dangers 
and  perills ;  but  when  they  wer  wedded  and  bii  but  a  litle  season 
togither,  he  departed  from  her  to  her  greate  hevynes,  and  never  was 
conversaunt  with  her  after,  to  her  vnderstandinge ;  and  all  the  while  she 
kept  her  cleane  and  trew  lady  and  wyf  to  him,  devout  to  godward,  and 
by  way  of  Almes,  greately  helpinge  them  that  wer  in  poore  estate.  Sir 
Gy  of  Warwyke,  flower  and  honor  of  Kiiighthode,  sonne  to  Sir  Seaward, 
baron  of  Walingforde,  and  his  lady  and  wyfe  Dame  Sabyn,  a  florentyne 
in  Italy  of  the  noble  bloode  of  the  contrey,  translate  from  Italy  vnto 
this  lande,  as  Dame  Genches,  Saynt  Martyns  sister,  borne  in  Greke 
lande,  was  maryed  here,  and  had  in  this  lande  noble  Saynct  Patryke, 
that  converted  Irelande  to  the  Christian  faythe.  This  worshipfull 
Knight  Sir  Gy,  in  his  actes  of  warre  ever  consydered  what  parties  had 
wronge,  and  therto  wold  he  draw,  by  which  doinge  his  loos  spred  so 

1  See  Appendix  at  the  end  of  this  Introduction. 


516  GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 

farre  that  he  was  called  the  worthiest  Knight  lyvinge  in  his  dayes. 
Then  his  most  speciall  and  chief  Lady  that  he  had  sette  his  hart  of 
most,  Dame  Felys,  applied  to  his  will  and  was  wedded  to  him.  This 
noble  warryor  Sir  Gy,  after  his  mariage  consideringe  [what]  he  had 
don  for  a  womans  sake,  thought  to  besset  the  other  part  of  his  lyf 
for  Goddes  sake,  departed  from  his  lady  in  pilgrymeweede  as  hir 
shewys,  which  rayment  he  kept  to  his  lyves  ende,  and  did  menyigreate 
battells,  of  the  which  the  last  was  the  victory  of  Colbrond  ut 
Winchester  by  the  warninge  of  an  angell.  And  from  thence,  vnknowen 
savinge  to  the  Kinge  only,  come  to  Warwyke,  receyved  as  a  pilgryme 
of  his  owne  lady,  and  by  her  leave  at  his  abydinge  at  Gibclif.  and  his 
livery  by  his  page  dayly  sett  at  the  Castell.  And  two  dayes  afore  his 
deathe,  an  angell  enformed  of  his  passage  oute  of  this  world,  and  of  his 
ladyes  the  day  fourtnight  after  him.  And  at  Gibclyf  wer  they  bothe 
buryed,  for  ther  cowld  no  man  fro  thence  Remofe  him  till  his  sworn 
brother  com,  Sr  Tyrry,  wth  whome  he  was  translate  without  lett.  And 
to  this  day  God  for  her  sake,  to  tho  that  devoutely  seeke  him  for  hur 
sakes,  with  other  Greuis  as  by  miracle  seen  remedied.  And  in  remem 
brance  of  his  habit  it  wer  full  convenient  you  y*  it  pleased  som  good 
lord  or  lady  to  fynde  in  the  same  place  ij .  poore  men  that  cowde  help 
a  priest  to  singe,  one  of  theim  to  be  ther  continually  present,  wearinge 
his  pilgrim e  habyte,  and  to  shew  folke  the  place  ;  and  their  habitacion 
might  be  full  well  sett  over  his  cave  in  the  rocke. 

The  story  of  Sir  Guy  then  had  evidently  long  before  Eous's 
time  found  a  local  habitation,  both  at  Warwick  and  at  Winchester. 
Leland,  in  his  Itinerary,  says  of  Gibclife  or  Guycliffe :  "  Ould 
Fame  remaineth  with  the  People  there  that  GKudo  Earl  of 
Warwike  in  King  Athelston's  Dayes  .  .  .  lived  in  this  place  like  a 
Heremite,  unknowen  to  his  wife  Felice,  untill  at  the  Article  of  his 
Death  lie  shewed  what  he  was.  .  .  .  Here  is  a  house  of  Pleasure,  a 
Place  meet  for  the  Muses.  There  is  sylence,  a  praty  Wood,  'antra 
in  vivo  saxo,  the  River  rowling  over  the  stones  with  a  praty 
noyse,  nemuscnlum  ibidem  opacum,  fontes  liquid!  et  gemmei, 
prata  florida,  antra  muscosa,  rivi  leves  et  per  saxa  discursus, 
necnon  solitude  et  quies  multis  amicissima."  The  heart  of  the 
antiquary  warms  towards  the  lovely  spot. 

Such  are  the  authorities,  if  the  word  may  be  used  in  this  case, 


GUY    AND    COLEBRANDE.  517 

for  the  legend.  At  any  rate,  they  may  serve  to  show  how 
old  it  is,  and  how  widely  and  generally  popular  it  was. 
In  the  Elizabethan  literature  allusions  to  it  abound,  though, 
strangely  enough,  not  one  occurs  in  the  plays  of  Shakespeare, 
familiar  as  he  must  have  been  with  it  and  the  locality  to  which 
the  more  touching  part  is  attached.  Puttenham,  in  his  Art  of 
Poetry  (1589),  speaks  of  "  places  of  assembly  where  the  company 
shall  be  desirous  to  hear  of  old  adventures  and  valiances  of  noble 
knights  in  times  past,  as  are  those  of  King  Arthur  and  the  Knights 
of  the  round  table — Sir  Bevis  of  Southampton,  Guy  of  Warwick, 
and  others  like."  In  Dr.  King's  Dialogues  of  the  Dead  (quoted 
by  Mr.  Chappell),  "  It  is  the  negligence  of  our  ballad  singers," 
a  Ghost  remarks,  "  that  makes  us  to  be  talked  of  less  than 
others ;  for  who  almost  besides  St.  George,  King  Arthur,  Bevis, 
Guy  and  Hickathrift,  are  in  the  chronicles  ?  "  The  Little  French 
Lawyer  in  Fletcher's  play  of  the  name,  and  Old  Master  Merry 
thought  in  the  Kniglit  of  the  Burning  Pestle  sing  snatches  of 
the  Legend.  Corbet  in  his  Iter  Boreale  wishes, 

May  all  the  "ballads  be  call'd  in  &  dye, 
Which  sing  the  warrs  of  Colebrand  &  Sir  Guy. 

Butler  tells  us  of  Talgol,  one  of  Hudibras'  supporters  (who, 
according  to  L'Estrange,  represented  a  certain  Newgate  Market 
butcher), 

He  many  a  boar  &  huge  dun-cow 
Did,  like  another  Guy,  o'erthrow ; 
But  Guy  with  him  in  fight  compar'd 
Had  like  the  boar  or  dun-cow  far'd. 

Such  has  been  the  popularity  of  this  story.  The  oldest  literary 
form  of  it  preserved  to  us  is,  as  we  have  seen,  an  Anglo-Norman 
romance,  composed  probably  in  the  thirteenth  century.  This, 
no  doubt,  was  founded  on  songs  and  traditions  that  were  then 
commonly  in  vogue  in  the  country,  that  had  then  already  been 
so  for  many  a  generation.  These  were  dressed  and  decorated 
by  the  romance-writer  according  to  the  fashion  of  his  age ; 


518  GUY    AND    COLEBRANDE. 

the  old  Saxon  hero  transformed  into  a  Norman  knight,  dis 
patched  to  the  crusades,  conducted  from  tournament  to  tourna 
ment  throughout  Europe,  and  carried  through  all  the  adventures 
proper  for  a  hero  of  chivalry.  One  most  prominent  feature 
of  the  romance  is  its  monastic  feeling,  which,  indeed,  is  so 
strong  that  one  may  well  believe  it  to  be  the  work  of  a  monk. 
A  terrible  remorse  seizes  Gruy  at  last  for  all  the  blood  he  has 
shed,  and  his  love  for  the  woman  who  has  incited  him  to  his 
blood-shedding  career  passes  away.  Is  this  penitential  element 
part  of  the  original  tale  ?  Was  this  sung  of  by  old  pre-Norman 
gleemen  ?  Or  is  it  rather  to  be  ascribed  to  the  translator  and 
editor  of  the  thirteenth  century  ?  Probably  so.  In  the  old  Saxon 
poetry,  so  far  as  is  known,  women  occupy  but  an  unimportant 
place.  Neither  there,  nor  indeed  in  the  life  which  that  poetry 
reflects,  do  they  "rain  influence  and  adjudge  the  prize."  More 
over,  one  can  well  conceive  such  an  addition  being  made  to  the 
story  in  the  thirteenth  century,  a  period  of  a  great  monastic 
revival — a  period  of  much  doubt  as  to  matrimony,  an  uneasy 
suspicion  prevailing  that  it  was  an  indulgence  which  the  truly 
pious  man  would  scarcely  allow  himself.  Such  a  suspicion  enters 
the  soul  of  Gruy,  when  at  last,  after  waiting  and  longing  and 
serving  so  long,  he  is  at  last  crowned  with  the  happiness  of  his 
heart ;  he  resolves  to  abandon  the  treasure  gained.  How  noble 
and  devout  such  an  abandonment  was  held  to  be  by  the  mediaeval 
monks  may  be  seen  from  endless  instances,  notably  from  the 
story  of  Saint  Alexios,  of  whom  Alban  Butler  thus  writes  !  : 

Having,  in  compliance  with  the  will  of  his  parents,  married  a  rich 
and  virtuous  lady,  he  on  the  very  day  of  the  nuptials,  making  use  of 
the  liberty  which  the  laws  of  God  and  his  church  give  a  person  before 
the  marriage  be  consummated,  of  preferring  a  more  perfect  state, 
secretely  withdrew,  in  order  to  break  all  the  ties  which  held  him  in 
this  world.  In  disguise  he  travelled  into  a  different  country,  e.m- 

1  See  Appendix  at  the  end  of  this  Introduction. 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE.  519 

braced  extreme  poverty,  and  resided  in  a  hut  adjoining  to  a  church 
dedicated  to  the  Mother  of  God.  Being  after  some  time  there  dis 
covered  to  be  a  stranger  of  distinction,  he  returned  home,  and  being 
relieved  as  a  poor  pilgrim,  lived  some  time  unknown  in  his  father's 
house,  bearing  the  contumely  and  ill-treatment  of  the  servants  with 
invincible  patience  and  silence.  A  little  before  he  died  he  by  a  letter 
discovered  himself  to  his  parents. 

Guy's  wife-desertion  then,  and  his  severe  asceticism,  may  be 
later  additions  to  his  original  story.  There  can  be  little  doubt 
that  that  original  story  belongs  to  a  remote  age, — possibly,  as  has 
been  suggested,  to  an  age  anterior  even  to  that  assigned  to  it  in 
the  romance — the  age  of  Athelstan.  With  this  age  of  Athelstan 
it  would  seem  to  have  been  connected  from  a  very  early  time. 
There  is  no  kind  of  historical  basis  for  it  in  what  records  we  have 
of  that  age.  There  was  certainly  a  great  Northern  invasion  in 
the  reign  of  Athelstan.  Northumbria,  lately  annexed  by  him, 
allied  itself  with  Scots,  Danes,  Welsh,  and  essayed  to  recover  its 
independence.  "They  fought  with  Athelstan,"  writes  Milton, 
"  at  a  place  called  Wenduse  [which  might  easily  have  been 
confounded  with  Wynton]  ;  others  term  it  Brununbury,  others 
[as  William  of  Malmesbury]  Bruneford ;  which  Ingulgh  [who 
calls  it  Brunford]  places  beyond  Humber ;  Camden  in  Glendale 
of  Northumberland  on  the  Scottish  borders — the  bloodiest  fight, 
say  authors,  that  ever  this  island  saw."  Ellis  suggests  that  Guy 
— he  should  say  Egil — maybe  identical  with  one  Egils,  "  who  did 
in  fact  contribute  very  materially  "  to  the  victory.  If  this  be  so, 
then  the  legend  must  be  rather  Scandinavian  than  Saxon  ;  for  this 
Egil  was  a  northern  viking  enlisted  on  the  side  of  Athelstan.  But, 
indeed,  if  the  legend  be  an  old  Saxon  one,  there  need  be  no  diffi 
culty  in  accounting  for  its  later  connection  with  the  reign  of 
Athelstan.  That  was  the  most  glorious  reign  in  the  history  of 
Saxon  England.  Athelstan  reaped  the  rich  fruits  of  his  illustrious 
grandfather's  wisdom  and  policy.  He  was  enabled  to  consolidate 
the  kingdom,  and  to  maintain  its  unity  unimpaired.  At  home 


520  GUY   AND   COLEBRANDE. 

and  abroad  his  name  was  known  and  feared.  His  crowning 
victory  at  Brunanburgh  produced  a  profound  impression.  Even 
the  Saxon  imagination  was  stirred  by  such  power  and  glory. 
"  To  describe  his  famous  fight,"  says  Milton,  "  the  Saxon  annalist, 
wont  to  be  sober  and  succinct,  whether  the  same  or  another  writer, 
now  labouring  under  the  weight  of  his  argument  and  overcharged, 
runs  on  a  sudden  into  such  extravagant  fancies  and  metaphors  as 
bear  him  quite  beyond  the  scope  of  being  understood."  Strangely 
enough,  the  great  poet  did  not  recognise  in  the  passage  he  thus 
characterises  the  work  of  an  older  bard  ;  for  it  is  io.  fact  one  of 
the  few  Saxon  poems  that  survive.  There  are  many  signs  of  a 
rich  ballad  literature,  besides  that  spirited  piece,  appertaining 
to  this  great  monarch's  reign.  There  is  the  story  of  Analaf 
belonging  to  that  same  battle,  which  is  evidently  taken  by 
Malmesbury  from  some  old  ballad.  Then  there  are  the  stories  of 
the  King's  mother's  dream,  and  of  his  brother  Edwin's  punish 
ment  for  taking  part  in  a  conspiracy  against  him,  both  which 
that  chronicler  confessedly  found  in  old  ballads.  Naturally 
enough,  the  story  too  of  the  great  combat  with  the  giant  was 
attached  to  his  reign ;  for  legends  attract  each  other,  so  to  speak. 
The  name  given  in  later  times  to  the  national  combatant  was 
Guy. 

Other  romances  in  course  of  time  grew  around  that  of  Gruy, 
treating  of  his  son  Ruisburn,  of  his  tutor  Heraud  and  his  son. 


Had.  MS.  7333,  fol.  35  b. 

|>e  ermyte  -with  Inne  litil  spase  By  an  Aungel  his  spirit  to  conveye 

By  dethe  is  past  J?e  Ende  of  his  laboure        Afftir  his  bodyly  Kesolyciouwe 
Aftir  whome  Guy  was  ber  successoure  For  his  merits  to  }>e  hevenely  mansyoune 

Space   of  twoo   yere  by  grace  of  crist       )>an  in  alle  haste  he  sent  his  weddyng 

Ihesu  Ryng 

Dauntyng  his   fleshe  by  penaunce  and       Vn  to  his  wyff  of  trewe  Affecciouwe 

Rygour  Prayd  her  to  come  |  And  beo  at  his  eonding 

Ay  more  and  more  encressyng  in  vertev   ^[  That  she   sholde  doone  J?ere  hir  besye 
G-od  made   him  knowe   J>e  daye  J>*   he  cure 

shold  dyee  As  by  A  maner  wyffly  deligense 

J>orowe  his  gracious  vesitacioune  In  haste  to  ordeyne  for  his  Cepulture 


V 


GUT   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


521 


Vfith  noo  hret  coste  ne  with  no  grete 

dispence 

Sheo  hasted  hir  til  sheo  cam  in  presence 
Wher  hat  Guy  lay  dedly  pale  of  face 
Bespreynt  with    teeres    knelyng    with 

Kevurence 

he  dede  body  Felyce  did  ther  inbrace 
^{This  notable  &  Famouse  worthi  knyght 
Sent  her  to  sayne  bi  his  messagier 
In   Jnlke  place   to   burye   hym   anoone 

Right 
Wher  that  he   lay  to  fore  in  A  smal 

Awter 

And  Afftir  this  doe>  trewly  hir  deveyre 
her  for  her  selfe  dysposyn  and  provide 
Fyfftene  dayes  Folowyng  he  same  jere 
She  to  be  buried  here  by  G-uyes  syde 
^]  His  holy  wyf  of  al  this  toke  good  hede 
Like  as  he  badde  and  liste  no  longer 

tarye 

Tacquyte  hir  selfe  of  wyffly  womanhede 
For   she  was   lohe  frome  his  desire  to 

varye 

Sent  in  Al  haste  for  he  ordenarye 
Wiche  ocupied  in  J>at  dyosyse 
She   was    not    founde    in    oone    poynt 

contrarye 
Eche    thyng    tacomplyshe  /  as   ye  have 

herde  devise 

•[[And  alle  his  cronicle  /For  to  conclude 
At  hes  Exequyes  old  &  younge  of  age 
Of  diuerse  folke  cam  grete  multitude 
"With  grete  devocioune  vn  to  hat   her 
mitage 

Lyche  A  pryrcse  with  al  J?e  surplusage 
hei  tooke  hym  vppe/and  leyde  him  in  his 

grave 

Ordeynid  of  god  be  marcyal  curage 
Ageinst  be  Danys  J>is  Regioune  to  saue 
^[Whos  sowle  I  truste  restight  nowe  in 

glorie 


"With  holy  Spiret:_  Above  he  Firmament 
Felice  his  wyf  callyng  to  her  memorye 
he  daye  gane  neghe  of  her  enterrement 
To  forne  provided  in  her  testament 
Reynborne  >eire  heyre/ioustely  to  succede 
By  title  of  hir  and  lynealle  discent 
heorldame  of  warwike  trewly  to  possede 
^he   stok   descendyng  doune   by  he   pee 

dugree 

To  Guy  his  fadir  by  title  of  mariage 
Afftir  whos  dethe/of  lawe  and  equyte 
Reynborne  to  entre  in  to  his  Eritage 
Cleimeyng  his  Ryght/his  moder  of  good 

age 
Hahe    yolde    hir  dette  by  dethe   vnto 

nature 

By  side  her  lorde  in  \>at  Ermitage 
Wiche     eonded    feyre    was    made    hir 

Sepulture 

Tl'For  to  auctorise  better  his  matere 
Whos  translaciouw  shewe^e  he  sentence 
Oote  of  latyne  made  by  he  Cronniculier 
Callid  of  olde  Gyrard  Cronubyence 
Wiche  whilome  wrot  with  gret  deligence 
Dedis  of  hem  in  westesex  crowned  kynges 
Gretly   comendyng    for    kneyghtly   ex 
cellence 
Guy  of    werrewike    in    heos     famouse 

wreyting^ 

^[Of  whos  nobelesse  ful  gret  hede  he  toke 
His  kneyghtly  fame  to   putten  in  Re- 

memberavnse 

he  eleventhe  chapitre/of  his  historialboke 
he  parfite  lyf  h«*  vertuouse  gouernaunce 
His  wilfulle  pouertee/harde  ligginge  and 

penaunce 

Al  sent  to  me  in  Englisho  to  translate 
If  owght  be  wrong  in  metre  or  substance 
Put  al  he  wyte/for  dulnesse  on  lydegate 


Harkian  MS. 

To  all  heroical  knightes,  and  illustrious 
Ladies,  both  in  Court,  and  Countrie 
for  virtewe,  love,  bewtie,  chivalrie, 
prowes,  bowntie :  &  of  other  com- 
pleate  departmentes  most  eminent 
and  honorabl,  John  Lane  in  all 
dutie  wisheth  gratious  perfection  to 
felicitie  eternal. 

After,  nay  before  all  your  secular  affaires, 
vouchsafe  to  accepte,  to  jour  recreations 


5243, /of.  4. 

the  pleasant  historic  of  this  vertuous 
paire  instanced  in  the  most  noble  pair  of 
frendes,  and  lovers,  the  Ladie  Felis,  and 
her  exemplarie  sparck  of  Christian  honor, 
Sir  Gwy  Earle  of  Warwick,  surnamed 
the  heremite;  reckoned  for  more  then 
twoe  hundred  yeeres  togeather,  the  last  of 
the  Nine  worthies:  albeit  in  that  heroical 
ranck,  hee  standeth  indignified,  or  ne 
glected,  but  without  anie  known  cause, 


VOL.  II. 


M  M 


522 


GUY   AND   COLEBRANDE. 


by  some  forane  heraultes,  for  theire 
Duke  G-othfreyes  sake,  wheareof  expostu 
lation  is  made  after  a  modest  fasshion  in 
this  Poem.  His  deedes  have  lately  bin 
renewed  in  verse,  and  published  in  a  litle 
tract ;  nevertheles  for  brevitie  sake,  (as  it 
seemeth)  it  omitteth  much  of  the  original 
historic,  left  vnto  vs  by  all  the  ancient 
English  poetes  :  whose  historie  I  take  to 
bee  meerly  english,  and  not  delt  withall 
by  anie  straungers,  (vnlesse  by  Ariosto) 
as  kinge  Arturs  hath  bin  by  the  Italien 
Bocas,  in  honorable  manner,  and  by  some 
French,  and  Spanish,  as  it  is  reported. 
But  all  our  ancientes,  fallinge  in  love  with 
the  high-pitchd  vertew,  -which  our  noble 
Griiyon  bore  in  martial  prowes,  have  in 
divers  successive  ages,  as  Poetes  his 
torical,  reillustrated  the  same  ;  as  well 
is  observed  by  our  learned,  and  farthest 
travelled  antiquarie  Mr  Camden,  whoe 
with  approved  poetical  iudgment,  of 
givinge  discreet  accompte  to  the  Muses, 
calleth  him  Guidonem  warwicensem  de- 
cantatum  ilium  heroem.  And  him  have 
they  sunge  in  deed  into  the  fabrick  of 
sownd  poetrie,  although  in  termes  obso 
lete;  the  which,  posteritie  maie  againe, 
and  againe,  (as  listeth  Poetes)  refine,  in 
lines  more  polite,  accordinge  as  our  lan 
guage  is  become  refined,  and  more  copious, 
equal  (at  the  least)  to  anie  circumstant 
vulgar :  as  with  reason,  ^and  learned 
demonstration's  wittnessed  by  our  noble, 
and  highlie  ingenious  knight  Sir  Philip 
Sidney,  but  in  sublimitie  of  conceipt, 
cann  passe  them  never,  for  that  they 
(dealinge  in  own  loonies  3S  poets  histori 
cal)  have  ever  since,  built  on  the  same 
model,  either  expressely,  or  transposedly, 
which  also  is  punctualy.  It  beinge  by 
them  idealie  layd,  after  the  laudabl,  & 
lawfull  manner  of  poetical  fiction,  doe 
serve  out  G-uions  trewe  real  historie, 
vnder  the  signature  of  Misterie ;  -which 
hath  to  drawe  with  it  Allusion,  Circum 
stance,  Discourse,  Speculation,  Sentence, 
Immitation  :  all  sommd  vp  in  these  twoe 
vz  Invention,  Demonstration  .  as  well 
knoweth  the  Classis  of  poetes  laureat,  to 
whome  I  produce  Chaucers  tale  by  the 
Squier,  never  yet  told  out  by  anie  in  the 
same  straine  ;  the  which  formes,  I  also 
in  this  poem  shall,  and  in  my  poetical 
•visions,  first  and  second  partes,  and  in 
my  Twelue  monethes  observe,  and  ex- 
emplifye  .  the  name  Poeta,  being  derived 


of  TToif(&,  signifieth  to  make  as  a  maker ; 
howbeeit  to  define  the  art  it  selfe  is  all  as 
hard,  as  to  doe  it  indeede,  but  not  to  doe 
it  rightly  I  cannever  define  y t  soundly : 
No  though  her  practise  doe  thus  extend 
yt :  vz  Primo,  into  the  Satyrical,  which 
proveth  so  offensive  to  the  meridien 
wheare  yt  confineth!  as  that  her  back 
cannever  beare  half  the  enimies  shee  be- 
getteth  to  her  self.  Secundo,  it  maie  be 
laid  in  ye  Lyrical  which  hath  to  praise 
or  despraise;  which  satisfy eth  not  the 
best  wittes ;  sith  flotinge  topp  of  the 
wave  for  the  gull  to  feed  on  particulars. 
Tercio,  it  may  bee  carried  in  the  kind 
called  heroical,  or  Allegorical ;  the  which 
(allegorical  waie  anglinge  at  the  bottom) 
implieth  those  other  twaine,  and  all 
notions  ells,  beinge  exercised  in  such 
different  descant,  and  varietie  of  verse 
in  kind,  as  discreete  art  findeth  most  con 
gruent  to  the  muse :  is  thearefore  most 
delightfull  to  the  most  iudicious,  as 
having  in  yt  an  heroical  powr  of  callinge 
the  highest  vnderstandinges  of  all  others, 
as  namely  our  master  Aristotel,  Alex 
ander  magnus,  Scipio  Affricanus,  Oc- 
tauius  Augustus  Cesar,  Jacobus  Anglise 
rex,  with  manie  moe,  whoe  are  by  so 
much  the  more  often  honorablie  remem- 
bred,  as  theire  bownteous  favors  to  the 
ingenious  in  this  faculty,  have  bin  shewed, 
and  theire  own  iudicious  dexterities  in  it 
abowndecl,  but  is  no  meate  for  paper- 
peckinge  In  rimers  —  out  poetasters, 
sith  —  muse-traducinge,  — witt  abusinge, 
— Poesie-missvsinge  Pieridistes.  In  which 
last,  szc  heroical  kind  ;  Homer  bestirred 
him  selfe  to  lead  the  dawnce.  Virgil 
blasoned  the  riches  of  his  learninge  in 
the  same  cloth  of  arras  .  the  ancient  Eng 
lish  Poetes  (meaninge  allwaies  the  sownd 
ones)  have  delivered  them  of  heroical 
birthes  in  this  kind ;  w^ich  doe  survive 
of  theire  deceased  parents  glorie,  all  of 
them  adducinge  a  complete  knight,  in  the 
personations  of  twoe  in  number ;  and 
maie  as  lawfullie  bee  instanced  in  one  : 
and  all  as  well  in  twoe,  as  pleaseth  the 
ingenious.  1'or  so  Mr  Edm :  Spencer  in 
his  allegorical  declaratorie,  faerely  de- 
clameth.  Now,  for  my  own  part  (vnder 
correction)  I  endevour  to  call  a  general 
muster  of  all  our  noblest  Guions  whole 
historie,  in  the  same  kind  also,  as  beinge 
most  proper  for  it,  and  him ;  but  without 
derogatinge  from  the  desert  of  our  ancient 


GUT   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


523 


English  poets  first  plott:  the  -which  (re- 
presentinge  excellent)  was  written  all- 
most  three  hundred  yeeres  gonn,  by  Don 
Lidgate,  and  since  him,  by  John  Rowse  & 
Pepulwick.  But  wheare  all  they  had 
theire  first  president!  is  now  by  the 
ancient  historiens  verie  hard  to  prove  ; 
for  that  in  our  great e  combustion  of  anti- 
quitie,  they  sulfred  shippwrack:  Not- 
withstandinge,  some  of  them  escaped  ye 
distroier,  and  are  yet  extant,  &  well 
preserved  by  the  singular  industries  of 
osm,  that  waie  both  studious,  and  learned : 
amongst  whome,  Mr  Thomas  Allen,  in 
the  leurnedst  ranckes  hath  reputation ; 
as  Sir  Robert  Coton  knight  his  industrie 
in  this  kind,  hath  singular  commendation. 
All  these  ancient  (Jronoclers  wrote  of 
Guies  person,  &  greate  prowes ;  namely, 
Henricus  Knighton,  Thomas  Radburn, 
Giraldus  Cornubieu sis,  Johannes  Strench, 
Johannes  Hardingo,  Johannes  Grresley, 
Johannes  Powtrel :  all  beinge  manu- 
scriptes,  never  printed,  with  many  moe, 
as  saith  John  Rosse,  whoe  dilligentlie  in 
K.  Hen :  the  seavnths  time  collected 
them  on  the  point  of  Gwy,  while  the 
recordes  weare  yet  extant,  every  of  them 
avouchinge  his  overcominge  of  Colbrund 
on  the  same  conditions,  -which  tradition 
hath  ever  since  that  time  maintained. 
Cronica  cronicorum  affirm eth  the  same, 
though  at  the  second  hand,  and  with 
missnaminge  of  Giraldus  Cambrensis, 
for  Giraldus  Cornubiensis.  Yet  all  this 
notwithstandinge !  our  valient  Guy  is  so 
vnfortunate  amongste  our  late  Croniclers, 
as  that  they  are  pleased  to  saie  lesse  of 
him,  then  Hanibals  epitaph,  amounted 
vnto.  Amongst  whome  !  som  of  cures, 
(but  vnkindlie  for  th'innocent  English 
penn,  and  that  to  this  worthies  dishonor) 
whose  person  they  confesse;  yet  after 
holdinge  his  own  for  many  ages  in  his 
grave  ex  concesso,  woold  faine  decline 
the  credite  of  ally6  ancientes,  concerninge 
the  conditions  of  Guyes  fightings  the 
Duello  for  this  kingdom,  when  hee  slewe 
Colbrand  the  Affrican  giant  challenginge 
for  the  Danes :  as  yf  Sir  Guy,  beinge 
then  a  man  retired  to  obscxiritie,  and 
besides  overtaken  of  old  age;  shoold,  or 
woold  runn  at  a  masterie  so  daungerous 
for  glorie,  -which  hee  contemned :  and 
notvppon  the  necessities  of  that  occasion, 
but  this  presumptuous  kind  of  novitious 
writinge,  maie  rest  assured,  that  onlie 

M 


one  of  yonder  ancientes,  livinge  neerer 
the  time  of  the  famous  Guy  by  some 
hundreds  of  yeeres,  will  carrie  more 
credite !  then  one  thowsand  such  newe, 
offringe  so  forwardly,  -which  must  needes 
bee  ignorantlie,  sith  not  havinge  scene 
anie  of  the  manuscriptes  before  men 
tioned.  Howbeeit,  John  Stowes  note  of 
Guy,  is  perfecter  then  all  the  rest  of  the 
newe.  Against  w/dich  manner  of  histori- 
fyenge,  which  intendeth  but  to  vex  the 
credite-  of  antiquity,  (speakinge  this 
vnder  correction,  and  without  taxinge 
the  good  endevoure  of  anie  man,  or  the 
person  it  selfe)  Poetrie  hath  to  bringe 
her  action  of  encrochmeut,  for  vsurpinge 
on  her  licence  of  allusion  in  matter  of 
fact,  and  it  applicnge  to  historie  of  longe 
before  our  new  writers  times :  -which 
manner,  scarce  is  historicum  dicendj 
genus,  but  is  goodly  to  shewe  with  what 
eloqution  such  endewe  them  selves  with 
all,  and  to  enlarge  tomes  beyond  movinge, 
without  the  helpe  of  a  porter.  In  the 
meane  time,  the  precise  naked  integritie 
of  the  ancientes,  gave  (with  more  brevi- 
tie)  accompt,  rather  of  plaine  fact,  as  it 
was  indeede,  then  of  affected  eloquence 
poeticalie  interlined  (but  vnlawfullie)  in 
historic.  Which  new  fluence,  breeding 
affluence,  will  shortlie  leave  in  evidence, 
that  what  Poetrie  doth  idealie  deliver 
for  fiction !  is  trewe ;  constant  truith 
standing  vp  her  perpetual  ensigne :  and 
what  this  novel  kind  of  historifienge 
affirmeth  for  trewe  !  is  false,  sith  mixed. 
For,  marck  if  theire  affected  insinuations 
doe  not  purposely  wooe  these  three 
common  concubines  Partialitie !  feare  ! 
flattery!  and  on  them  begetteth  the 
bastard  falsity!  a  chaungelin,  the  -which 
mote  these  faeries  overlive  them  selves  ! 
and  the  parties  they  have  with  theire 
mowth  glewe  starched!  they  woold  not 
faile  so  to  stripp  off  theire  old  skinn, 
cast  all  theire  loose  haier,  and  rectifie 
theire  new  settcountenaunce  attannother 
glasse ;  as  that  Proteus  him  selfe  woold 
not  bee  able  to  knowe  them.  How  then 
may  such  bee  trusted  to  bee  cited  in 
other  discentes  de  future?  yf  not  as 
trewly  reportinge  !  as  doth  positive  divi- 
nitie  in  schooles :  with  whome,  to  growe 
to  particulars,  woold  surelie  provoke 
theire  passion,  but  theire  integritie 
never.  On  thother  side,  sownd  Poetrie 
of  the  ancient  manner,  suffreth  no  alter- 

M  2 


524 


GUY   AND   COLEBRANDE. 


ation,  but  as  a  beakeun,  or  land  marcke, 
standeth  vp  from  age  to  age  impregnable, 
against  all  wittes  invectives,  to  drive 
them  home  to  theire  vocatiuo  caret. 
Againe,  yet  som  others,  contrarie  to 
thallegeance  dewe  to  the  muses,  and 
thearfore  impardonable,  sith  blabbinge 
theire  secretes  left  in  trust  without 
leave,  vncleanlie,  (yet  as  it  weare  iocund- 
lie)  denie  Guy,  and  his  actes  to  bee  at 
all ;  but  how  these  doe  better  know  it 
now !  or  whie  wee  must  take  theire 
wordes  for  aucthentical,  against  the 
soberer  &  chaster  ancientes,  livinge 
neerer  that  time  by  many  ages  !  wee  no 
more  dare  belive,  then  them  selves  are 
suer  to  bee  belived,  regarded,  or  ought 
esteemed,  when  they  also  have  takenn 
farewell  of  the  world :  though  now  seem- 
inge  to  bee  fallen  out  but  with  Lidgate 
onlie,  and  his  poetrie ;  doe  yet  in  effect, 
through  his  sides,  word  fensor  like  let 
drive  at  her,  but  not  as  Aristotels 
scholers,  naie  rather  his  masters,  in  not 
obayenge  his  injunction  concerninge  fa- 
cultie,  of  oportet  discentem  credere. 
"Wheareas  Lidgate  hath  respectivelie  fol 
lowed  the  advise  of  the  same  Aristotl 
given  for  Poetry  szt  of  fownding  yt  on 
aim  historic,  and  the  same  determininge 
in  a  short  time:  both  which  preceptes, 
Lidgate  hath  dewlie  performed  in  this 
manner,  viz  that  touchingetime!  Manns 
whole  lief  is  but  short,  and  touchinge 
truith  of  storie !  Lidgate  fownd  this  of 
Guy,  first  recorded  by  G-iraldus  Cornu- 
biensis,  and  by  manie  other  croniclers 
before  named.  Besides,  that  the  noblest 
Normanes,  whoe  came  in  with  the  Con- 
querour,  and  weare  earles  of  Warwick 
after  earle  Newbreghte,  above  six  score 
yeeres  after  Guy,  namely  the  familie  of 
Beauohamp,  or  Bellocampe,  many  yeefes 
after  that ;  reioiced  to  ioine  them  selves 
to  the  memorie  of  such  ann  ancestor : 
and  did  not  onlie  repaire  those  monu- 
mentes  weare  fownd  of  Guy,  but  added 
somewhat  e\les.  Thus  Lidgat  faierlie 
discharginge  him  selfe,  leaveth  it  appa 
rent,  that  the  meere  historien,  is  of  all 
other  infestus !  the  most  malignant  to 
ward  the  Poet  historical;  whome  hee 
vnderstandeth  not:  though  him  the 
Poet  doth,  at  ann  haier,  is  thearefore  the 
most  vnfitt  to  accuse,  or  censure  the 
industrious,  in  the  same  case,  that  Prince 
Hector,  and  kinge  Artur  maie  also  bee 


doubted  of,  because  they  likewise  have 
binn  poeticalie  historified  by  poetes  pro- 
sequutinge  ideal  veritie,  as  the  historien 
pretendeth  positive  truith.  But  now 
alas  so  sickly!  sith  tempted  by  yonder 
three  fountaine  troublinge  faeries,  that 
(as  the  world  waggeth,)  it  is  harder  to 
find  ann  ancient  poet  false,  then  a  new 
historien  trewe ;  while  hee  imbibeth  that 
rancke  penn  swoln  humor,  newly  cleaped 
the  art  of  reformation :  meaninge  the 
same  art,  which  our  excellently  learned 
knight  Sir  Henrie  Sauyl  in  his  annota 
tions  vppon  Tacitus,  mett  stealinge  over 
sea  hitherward.  vppon  whose  bold  fore 
head,  hee  scoreth  a  lecture,  wheareof  shee 
is  hardlie  capable  szt  of  more  modestie. 
Weare  it  not  thearefore  better,  that  Don 
Barckley  (theferriman)bee  deltwith  all, 
to  shipp  her  back  againe  ?  sith  none  that 
knowes,  trustes  her  for  strawes ;  rather 
then  thus,  through  her  envious  suppress- 
inge  the  heroes,  to  discourage  the  fertile 
wittes  of  ourEnglishe  nation,  w/wch  weare 
readie  tocomme  into  the  deservinge  ranck 
with  the  Greekes,  Latines  and  Italienes, 
to  renewe  that  poetical  reputation  it  in 
herited  of  old,  but  for  this  odd  fashion 
of  presumed-sinceare  wisdom,  down 
strikinge  with  her  lightned  thunderbolt 
the  deceased.  Whoe  in  theire  times 
(without  comparison)  sored  on  no  com- 
temptible  opinion,  an  hartninge  of  the 
foraner,  to  detract  also.  But  if  it  shoold 
bee  imposed  on  the  meere  historiens  (so 
well  beeseene  in  antiquities,  andglistringe 
of  the  reformat! ves  aforesaid)  to  recon 
cile  those  Poemes  of  Chaucer,  and  Lid- 
gate,  &  of  soname  other  later  English 
(even  the  best  of  that  kind,  which 
staieth  not  yt  selfe  on  particulars  only, 
the  which  kind  was,  is,  and  ever  wilbee 
scandalous)  to  bee  all  one  thinge  vari 
ously  transposed!  it  mote,  chaunce  to 
pose  them  all  though  to  the  poet  it  bee 
possible  to  give  a  tract,  which  cann 
satisfy  all  men,  on  what  kinds  of  learn  - 
inge  soever  they  insist!  And  further 
demonstrate,  how  that  a  forane  poet 
(esteemed  excellent,  but  dealinge  with 
holie  scripture  in  the  Letter)  hath  from 
trewe  poetries  waiese  (meaninge  the  an 
cient)  not  a  litle  erred :  forasmuch  as  it  is 
well  knowen  to  the  Academick  Classis 
Laureate,  that  not  good  verse  alone,  nor 
prose  alone,  ne  store  of  similes,  or  some 
discription  with  allusion  onlie,  and  the 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


525 


like,  doe  make  poetrie  complete.  Yet 
beinge  of  it !  cann  at  the  most  amount 
but  to  Sermocination,  of  prose  turnd 
verse.  Thus  yf  Poetes  bee  of  my  iury ! 
I  hope  I  have  not  provoked  anie  dis- 
creete  manns  choler,  in  thus  showldringe 
(though  weakely,  to  poetries  behoof)  for 
the  same  roome  for  her,  which  Porphirie 
in  schooles  collateth  szt  habet  esse  in 
genere  demonstrandum ;  and  thearfore 
without  leave,  is  worthie  of  own  in 
genious  reputation  as  well  now,  as  then  ; 
to  whome  ancient  learninge  woold  never 
give  the  lye,  for  doubt  of  pledginge  the 
new  in  apium  risus.  Otherwise,  even 
Cornelius  Agrippa,  ipse  aries  (for  all 
his  occult  philosophick  lookes)  maie 
chaunce  in  this  straine,  to  sitt  beatinge 
his  heoles  without  the  muses  gates, 
singinge  to  own  vanity,  Beati  qui  non 
intelligunt.  more  mote  bee  brought  how 
lustie  some  historiens  deport  them  on 
own  glorious  ostentation,  as  yf  theare 
weare  none  to  them !  sith  vncivilie  taun- 
tinge,  discreditinge,  degradinge,  and  con- 
trowlinge  deiected  poetrie  (the  ideal 
model  of  moral  demonstratives)  w^'ch 
ever  was  rara  auis  in  terris,  and  knoweth 
what  shee  doth,  without  such  as  publish 
ann  ignorance,  never  ingendred  in 
schooles :  for  Poetrie  hath  waies  by  her 
selfe.  Whearfore  such  angrie  quill- 
men  maie,  (when  they  knowe  more) 
blush  of  own  shame,  yf  shee  acquitt  her 
self  from  beinge  either  ward  !  or  tenent 


at  will  to  them !  Howbeet  love  predomi- 
natinge  with  vs,  concealeth  names,  that 
by  this  litle  (gentlie  ment,)  they  woold 
bee  pleased  to  amend  much  ;  w///ch  more 
woold  commend  their  own  learninge,  yf 
not  indignlie  baiting  sound  poetrie  of 
virtuous  institute ;  and  theartbre  so 
much  the  more  esteemed  by  the  most 
noble,  most  honorable,  most  valient, 
wise,  and  learned,  as  thinge  (by  som 
maintained)  w^ich  none  maie  teach  to 
other:  Least  elles  shee  complaine  her  to 
all  her  ingenious  pupills,  whoe  cann 
byte  home  yf  bytten.  I  never  had  the 
philosophers  stone,  whearewith  to  pro 
mise  our  Guyon,  in  suche  daintie  limned 
worck,  as  Ariostoes  Orlando  hath  fownd 
since  hee  came  into  England  ;  neverthe- 
les  this  meanethe  historicalie  with  the 
ancientes,  to  present  Sir  Gwies  youth, 
manwood,  and  old  age:  his  love,  warr, 
&  mortification,  all  sommed  vp  in  his 
liefe,  and  death,  and  that  accordinge  to 
our  most  ancient  historiens,  poetes, 
heraltes  recordes,  publick  monumentes, 
and  tradicion  also,  -which  somtime  is  a 
never  dienge  trewe  cronicler.  Thus  not 
havinge  whoarewith  ells  to  expresse  my 
poore  service  vnto  you  then  in  this 
expense  of  times  leasure  with  takinge 
humblest  leave  doe  recommend  it  vnto 
you,  and  you  all,  to  thalmightie. 
this  of 

Yo??r  verie  lovinge  frend 
Jo :  La : 


See  Mrs.  Jameson's  Sacred  and  Legend 
ary  Art.  Alexis'  father  wishes  him  to 
marry,  and  chooses  him  a  bride.  "  On  the 
appointed  day  the  nuptialswerecelebrated 
with  great  pomp  and  festivity  ;  but  when 
the  evening  came  the  bride-groom  had 
disappeared,  and  they  sought  him  every 
where  in  vain  ;  and  when  they  questioned 
the  bride,  she  answered,  'Behold,  he  came 
into  my  chamber  and  gave  me  this  ring  of 
gold,  and  this  girdle  of  precious  stones, 
and  this  veil  of  purple,  and  then  he  bade 
me  farewell,  and  I  know  not  whither  he  is 
gone.'  And  they  were  all  astonished ;  and 
seeing  he  returned  not,  they  gave  them 
selves  up  to  grief:  his  mother  spread 
sackcloth  on  the  earth  and  sprinkled  it 
with  ashes,  and  sat  down  upon  it ;  and  his 


wife  took  off  her  jewels  and  bridal  robes, 
and  darkened  her  windows,  and  put  on 
widow's  attire,  weeping  continually  ;  and 
Euphemian  sent  serA'ants  and  messengers 
to  all  parts  of  the  world  to  seek  his  son, 
but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  In  the 
meantime,  Alexis,  after  taking  leave  of 
his  bride,  disguised  himself  in  the  habit 
of  a  pilgrim,  fled  from  his  father's  house, 
and  throwing  himself  into  a  little  boat/he 
reached  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber ;  at  Ostia 
he  embarked  in  a  vessel  bound  for  Lao- 
dicea,  and  thence  he  repaired  to  Edessa, 
a  city  of  Mesopotamia,  and  dwelt  there 
in  great  poverty  and  humility,  spending 
his  days  in  ministering  to  the  sick  and 
poor,  and  in  devotion  to  the  Madonna, 
until  the  people  who  beheld  his  great 


526 


GUT   AND   COLEBRANDE. 


piety,  cried  out  '  A  saint!'  Then  fear 
ing  for  his  virtue,  he  left  that  p^ce  and 
embarked  in  a  ship  bound  for  Tarsus,  in 
order  to  pay  his  devotions  to  St.  Paul. 
But  a  great  tempest  arose,  and  after  many 
days  the  ship,  instead  of  reaching  the 
desired  port,  was  driven  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Tiber,  and  entered  the  port  of  Ostia. 
When  Alexis  found  himself  again  near 
his  native  home,  he  thought,  '  It  is  better 
for  me  to  live  by  the  charity  of  my 
parents  than  to  be  a  burden  to  strangers,' 
and  hoping  that  he  was  so  much  changed 
that  no  one  would  recognise  him,  he  en 
tered  the  city  of  Rome.  As  he  approached 
his  father's  house,  he  saw  him  come  forth 
with  a  great  retinue  of  servants,  and  ac 
costing  him  humbly  besought  a  corner  of 
refuge  beneath  his  roof,  and  to  eat  of  the 
crumbs  which  fell  from  his  table  ;  and 
Euphemian,  looking  on  him,  knew  not 
that  it  was  his  son,  nevertheless  he  felt 
his  heart  moved  with  unusual  pity,  and 
granted  his  petition,  thinking  within 
himself,  '  Alas  for  my  son  Alexis !  per 
haps  he  is  now  a  wanderer  and  poor,  even 
as  this  man.'  So  he  gave  Alexis  in  charge 
to  his  servants,  commanding  that  he 
should  have  all  things  needful.  But, 
as  it  often  happens  with  rich  men  who 
have  many  servitors  and  slaves,  Euphe 
mian  was  ill  obeyed;  for,  believing  Alexis 
to  be  what  he  appeared — a  poor  ragged 
wayworn  beggar— they  gave  him  no  other 
lodging  than  a  hole  under  the  marble 
steps  which  led  to  his  father's  door,  and 
all  who  passed  and  repassed  looked  on  his 
misery ;  and  the  servants,  seeing  that  he 
bore  all  uncomplaining,  mocked  at  him, 
thinking  him  an  idiot,  and  pulled  his 
matted  beard,  and  threw  dirt  on  his  head ; 
but  he  endured  in  silence.  A  far  greater 
trial  was  to  witness  every  day  the  grief 
of  his  mother  and  wife ;  for  his  wife,  like 
another  Ruth,  refused  to  go  back  to  the 
house  of  her  fathers ;  and  often,  as  he 
lay  in  his  dark  hole  under  the  steps,  he 
heard  her  weeping  in  her  chamber  and 
crying,  '  0  my  Alexis  !  whither  art  thou 


gone?  "Why  hast  thou  espoused  me 
only  to  forsake  me  ?  '  And  hearing  her 
thus  tenderly  lamenting  and  upbraiding 
his  absence,  he  was  sorely  tempted ; 
nevertheless  he  remained  steadfast. 
Thus  many  years  passed  away,  until  his 
emaciated  frame  sunk  under  his  suffer 
ings,  and  it  was  revealed  to  him  that  he 
should  die.  Then  he  procured  from  a  ser 
vant  of  the  house  pen  and  ink,  and  wrote 
a  full  account  of  all  these  things,  and  ill 
that  had  happened  to  him  in  his  life,  and 
put  the  letter  in  his  bosom,  expecting 
death.  It  happened  about  this  time,  on 
a  certain  feast  day,  that  Pope  Innocent 
was  celebrating  high  mass  before  the 
Emperor  Honorius  and  all  his  court,  and 
suddenly  a  voice  was  heard,  which  said, 
'  Seek  the  servant  of  God  who  is  about 
to  depart  from  this  life,  and  who  shall 
pray  for  the  city  of  Rome.'  So  the  people 
fell  on  their  faces ;  and  another  voice  said, 
'  Where  shall  we  seek  him  ? '  And  the 
first  voice  answered,  '  In  the  house  of 
Euphemian  the  patrician.'  And  Euphe 
mian  was  standing  next  to  the  emperor, 
who  said  to  him,  '  What!  hast  thou  such 
a  treasure  in  thy  house,  and  hast  not  di 
vulged  it?  Let  us  now  repair  thither 
immediately.'  So  Euphemian  went  before 
to  prepare  the  way,  and  as  he  approached 
his  house  a  servant  met  him,  saying, 
'  The  poor  beggar  whom  thou  hast 
sheltered  has  died  within  this  hour,  and 
we  have  laid  him  on  the  steps  before  the 
door.'  And  Euphemian  ran  up  the  steps 
and  uncovered  the  face  of  the  beggar,  and 
it  seemed  to  him  the  face  of  an  angei,  such 
a  glory  of  light  proceeded  from  it ;  and 
his  heart  melted  within  him,  and  he  fell 
on  his  knees  ;  and  as  the  emperor  and  his 
court  came  near,  he  said,  '  This  is  .the 
servant  of  God  of  whom  the  voice  spake 
just  now.'  And  when  the  pope  saw  the 
letter  which  was  in  the  dead  hand  of 
Alexis,  he  humbly  asked  him  to  deliver 
it;  and  the  hand  relinquished  it  forth 
with,  and  the  chancellor  read  it  aloud 
before  all  the  assembly." 


GUT   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


527 


[The  First  Part.] 

[How  Guy  undertakes  to  fight  a  Danish  Giant.] 

:  meate  &  drinke  is  great  plentye,    [page  349]   At  feasts 
then  lords  and  Ladyes  still  wilbe, 

&  sitt,  &  solace  lythe  l  • 
then  itt  is  time  ffor  mee  to  speake 
of  keene  knights  &  kempes  2  great, 

such  carping  ffor  to  kythe,3 


how  they  haue  conquered,  for  Englands  right : 
8     with  heline  vpon  head,  w/th  halbert  4  bright, 

ffull  oft  &  many  a  sithe  5 
they  G  haue  burnt  by  dale  and  downe, 
citye,  castle,  tower,  &  towne, 
12         &  made  bearnes  viiblythe  ; 

made  Ladyes  ffor  to  weepe  with  dreery  mood, 
when  theire  ffreiiids  ought  ayled  but  good, 

their  hands  7  to  wring  and  writhe.8 
16     of  all  cronicles  ffarr  and  neere, 

were  9  any  deeds  of  armes  weere,10 

the  most  I  prayse  Sir  Guy 

of  warwicke  !     thai  noble  knight 
20     oft  times  ffor  Englands  right 
hath  done  ffull  worthy  lye ; 

yett  hee  kept  itt  as  priuilye 

as  tho  itt  had  neuer  beene  hee, 
24         without  noyse  or  crye. 

&  when  he  came  ouer  the  salt  ffome 
ffrom  Sir  Terrey  of  Gorwaine,11 


I  tell  of 
knights  and 
warriors 


who  have 


burnt  towers 
and  towns, 


and  made 
women  weep 
for  their 
friends. 


Above  all 
heroes 


I  put  Guy  of 
Warwick, 


who  kept 
secret  his 
noble  deeda 
for  England. 


When  he 
came  back 


1  soft,  gentle. — P.     listen  to.— F. 

2  Jcempa,  a  soldier,  Champion ;  kcmp, 
to  contend.     Scot,  vid.  Gl.  ad  G.D.— P. 

3  A.-S.  cy%an,  to  make  known,  relate. 
— F. 

4  hauberk.— P. 

5  sithe,  vices    (time)    Lye;    Chaucer. 
—P. 

8  The  Dane*.— P. 


7  MS.  lands.— F.    hands.— P. 

8  The  author  wrote  "wry." — Dyce. 

9  where. — P. 

10  There  is  a  tag  to  the  e. — F. 

11  Sir  Thierry  of  Gurmoise,  in  the  Af 
fleck  Romance  as  analysed  by  Ellis,  first 
Guy's  opponent,  then  the  friend  rescxied 
by  him.     See  Ellis,   p.  204,  214,  218, 
223  (ed.  Bohn).— F. 


528 


GUY   AND    COLEBKANDE. 


from  helping 
Sir  Terrey, 


be  dressed  as 
a  beggar, 


and  only 
enquired 
about 
Warwick. 
Athelstan 
was  then 
besieged  in 
Winchester 


by  the 

Danish  king, 
Avelocke, 


whose 
Giant 


was  all 
armed  in 
plate, 


and  had 
sworn  to 
subdue  all 
England. 


No  English 
knight  dares 
fight  him. 


a  knight  of  maine  and  moode, 
28     ffor  ffeare  lest  any  one  shold  him  know, 
he  kept  him  in  silly  beggars  rowe 
where  ener  hee  went  or  stood  ; 

&  euer  he  sperred  l  priuilicke 

32     how  they  flared  att  warwicke, 

&  how  they  liued  there. 
"King  Athels[t]one,  the  truth  to  say, 
att  the  towne  of  Winchester  there  he  lay 

36         w^'th  one  soe  royall  a  ffare. 

the  K.ing  of  Denmarke,  Auelocke,2 
he  into  England  brought  a  fflocke 

of  bearnes  as  breeme  as  beare  3 ; 
40     &  with  him  a  Gyant  stifle  &  starke, 
a  Lodlye  devill  out  of  Denmarke  : 

such  another  you  neuer  saw  yore  : 

hee  was  rayed  richlye  w^th  royall  plate 
44     both  legg  &  arme,  you  may  well  wott,4 

in  armor  bright  to  be  seene  ; 
he  brought  weapon, — who  list  ffor  to  read- 
more  "then  any  cart  could  lead,5 
48         to  ding  men  downe  by-deene  ; 

&  swore  othes  great  and  grim, 
thai  all  England  shold  hold  of  him, 

or  he  would  kindle  their  care. 
52      then  in  England  there  was  neuer  a 
thai  once  w^th  him  durst  flight, — 

fiull  sore  6  he  did  them  dread,7 — 


Athelstan 
Prays ; 


56 


neither  w^th  Auelocke  nor  Athelstone. 

then  our  Km#,  to  Christ  he  made  his  moane, 


1  i.e.  enquired. — P.      There  are   two 
strokes  for  the  second  i  in  priuilicke. — F. 

2  Anlaf,   in    the    Affleck    MS.      The 
change   here    is   due,  no   doubt,  to   the 
Eomance  of  Havelok  the  Dane. — F. 


8  boare,  q. — P.      Sore  is  the  regular 
•word. — F.  *  wate,  weet,  q. — P. 

5  forte    pro    (lade,   i.e.)   load,    A.-S. 
hladan,  B.  Iseden.— P. 

6  soe  sore. — P.  7  dare,  q. — P. 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


529 


&  to  his  mother  bright  to  be  s eerie, 
then  one  Night  as  our  King  lay  in  a  vision, 
there  came  an  Angell  downe  ffrom  heauen 
60         to  lett  him  vnderstand  l : 

he  sayd,  "  rise  vp  in  the  morning  by  prime,2 
&  goe  to  the  gates  in  a  good  time  ; 
an  old  man  shall  you  ffind  there, 
64     both  with  his  scripp  and  his  pike, 
as  that  hee  were  palmer  like, 

lowring  3  vnder  his  here.4 

vpon  thy  knees,  Sir  Km</,  looke  thou  kneele  him  to, 
68     &  pray  him  the  battell  to  doe, 

ffor  his  loue  that  Marry  bore.5  " 

With  that  the  Angell  vanished  away, 
but  more  of  this  Gyant  I  haue  to  say. 
72         as  I  haue  heard  my  Elders  tell, 
he  was  soe  ffoule  &  soe  great  course,6 
That  neither  might  beare  him  steed  nor  horsse  ; 

men  thought  he  came  firom  hell. 

• 
76     the[n]  bespake  a  Squier  priuilye  : 

"where  is  the  JUnight  men  call  Sir  Guy, 

some  time  7  in  this  land  did  dwell  ? 
or  Sir  Arrard  8  of  arden  alsoe  ? 
80     the  one  of  these  might  thither  goe 

the  Gyant  ffor  to  quell." 

then  bespake  him  an  Erie  in  that  while, 
&  sais,  "  Sir  Guy  is  now  in  Exile, 
84         no  man  knowes  wh[i]ther  or  where ; 

he  had  but  one  sonne,  &  he  hight  Rainborne  ; 
a  merchant  stold  him  ffrom  wallingford  towne, 
ouer  the  seas  with  him  to  ffare ; 


an  angel 
comes  to  him 
in  a  vision, 


and  tells  him 
to  go  early 
to  the  gates, 
where  he'll 
find  an  old 
man  like  a 
palmer. 


Him  he  must 
pray  to 
fight  the 
giant. 


[page  350] 


(A  squire 
says  Sir  Guy 


or  Sir 
Arrard  of 
Arden 
would  fight 
him. 


"  Ah !  but 
Guy  is  in 
exile. 

His  son 
Eainborne  is 
stolen ; 


1  him  ken  aright,  q. — P. 

2  Prime,  the  first  houre  of  the  day  (in 
Summer  at  foure  a  clocke,  in  Winter  at 
eight).     Cotgrave.— F. 

8  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 
4  hair,  q. — P.     here = hair. — F. 


5  bare,  q. — P. 

6  i.  e.  Corpse.— P. 

7  tine  in  the  MS.— F. 

8  Sir  Heraud,  Guy's  trusty  companion, 
then  "in  a   dungeon  on  the  coast  of 
Africa."    Ellis,  p.  198,  234.— F. 


530 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


and  his  wife, 
Felix, 


thinks  he, 
Guy,  is 


Next 
morning, 
Athelstan 
goes  to  the 


88     "  the  Erie  &  the  Countesse  beene  both  dead, 
Dame  ffelix  is  sore  adread 
of 1  her  Lord,  S^r  Guye. 

"  her  ffather  and  mother  beene  dead  her  ffroe  ; 

92     &  soe  shee  thinkes  Sir  Guy  is  alsoe, 

the  flower  of  knighthood  bold." 
then  Earlye,  as  soone  as  itt  was  day, 
our  King  to  the  gates  tooke  his  way, 

96         his  fforward  2  ffor  to  hold. 


finds  an  old 
man  in 
palmer's 
dress, 


and  prays 
him  to  fight 
the  giant. 


100 


right  certaine  truth  to  tell, 

he  ffound  3  a  man  in  the  same  apparell 

as  the  Angell  before  had  him  told, 
vpon  his  knees  the  King  kneeled  him  to, 
and  prayd  him  the  battell  doe, 

ffor  his  loue  thai  ludas  sold. 


The  Palmer 
says 


he  is  too 
weak. 


then  answered  the  Palmer  right, 
104    &  sayd,  "  in  England  you  haue  many  a  Knight 
the  battell  thai  may  doe. 

I  am  brused  in  my  body,  &  am  tfnyeeld  4  ; 

alas,  I  may  no  wepons  welde ! 
108        behold,  &  take  good  heede  6  !  " 


Athelstan 
says 

God  wills 
that  he 
should  fight. 

"Then  I 

will," 
answers  he. 


112 


our  King  sayd  the  palmer  vntill, 
"  well  I  wott  itt  is  gods  will 

you  shold  helpe  me  in  my  need  6  !  " 
"  If  that  be  soe,"  the  palmer  did  speake, 
"  by  the  might  of  Christ  I  shall  thee  wreake,7 

if  I  had  armour  &  sheild." 


Athelstan  our  King  of  this  hee  was  ffull  ffaine, 

116    &  soe  were  all  his  lords  certaine. 


1  for,  q.— P. 

2  agreement :  with  the  angel  ? — F. 
8  MS.  faund.— F. 

4  unwielde  or  unweld,  q.  Chauc. — P. 


6  Then  take    good  heed    thereto,  q. 
—P. 

6  in  the  field,  q.— P. 

7  revenge. — P. 


GUY    AND    COLEBRANDE. 


531 


120 


to  a  Chamber  they  cold  him  Lead  ; 
they  sought  vp  Armour  bright  and  ffaire, 
inough  ffor  any  King  to  haue  in  store,1 

&  they  best  they  did  him  bidd. 


offers  him 
armour, 


but  meete  for  his  body  there  was  none, 
he  was  soe  large  of  blood  and  bone, 
the  fferssest2  thai  euer  was  ffedd. 
124    the  day  of  battell  drew  neere  hand  ; 
but  5  dayes  before,  as  I  vnderstand, 
our  king  was  sore  affrayd. 


but  none 
will  fit  him, 
he  is  so  big. 


The  day  of 
battle  draws 
near. 


then  be  spake  the  palmer  priuilye, 
128     "  where  is  the  Knight  men  call  Sir  Guye  ? 

sometimes  in  this  land  he  dyd  dwell  3  ; 
once  I  see  him  beyond  the  sea  ; 
his  Armoure  I  thinke  wold  seruc  mee 
in  battell  stifflye  to  stand." 


132 


136 


the  'King  did  thereto  assent ; 

the  Kings  messenger  to  warwicke  went, 

the  Countesse  soone  he  ffound.4 
before  her  he  kneeled  him  on  his  knee, 
prayed  her  of  the  armor  belonged  to  Sir  Guy 

when  he  was  a-liue  liuande.5 


shee  saught  vp  armoure  ffaire  to  bee  seene  : 
140    Sir  Guyes  sword  was  sharpe  &  keene, 
himselfe  was  wonnt  to  weare. 

to  the  towne  of  Winchester  they  did  itt  bring  ; 

ffull  gladd  therof  then  was  the  "King, 
144         &  many  that  with  him  there  were. 

then  the  rayed  the  palmer  anon-right 

with  helme  vpon  head,  with  halbert 6  bright ; 


The  Palmer 

suggests 
that  Guy's 
armour  will 
fit  him. 


Athelstan 
sends  to  the 
Countess  for 
it, 


and  she 
sends  it 
back,  with 
Guy's  sword. 


They  arm 
him, 


1  to  wear,  q. — P. 

2  MS.  fferffest— F. 

»  he  did  dwell  in  this  land,  q. — P. 


4  fand,  q.— P. 

4  alive  on  ground,  q. — P. 

6  hauberk,  q.— P. 


532 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


he  mounts, 
and  rides 
forth. 


When  he 
gets  to  the 
field 


Guy  dis 
mounts, 

and  prays 
to  Christ 


to  grant  him 
strength  to 


free  England 
from  the 
Danish  yoke. 


Then  he 
springs  into 
the  saddle, 


and  Athel- 
stan  says 


he  never 
saw  any  one 
do  that 
except  Sir 
Guy. 


*  they  raught  Mm  sheild  and  speare. 

148    Then  he  lope  on  horsbacke  w^th  good  entent,    [P.  351] 
&  fforth  of  the  gates  then  hee  went, 

his  ffoes  ffor  to  ffeare. 
then  al  be-spread  l  was  the  ffeild 
152    w^th  helme  vpon  head,  with  shining  sheild,2 
as  breeme  3  as  any  beare.4 

&  when  the  palmer  all  the  armes  sawe, 
he  lighted  downe,  &  list  not  lange, 
156        but  he  mad  his  prayers  arright5: 
"  Christ !  thai  suffered  wounds  5, 
&  raised  Lazarus  ffrom  dath  to  liffe,6 

to  grant  mee  speech  &  sight, — 
160    &  saued  danyell  the  Lyons  ffroe, 

&  borrowed  7  Susanna  out  of  woe, — 
to  grant  vs  strenght  &  might, 

"  thai  I  may  England  out  of  thraldome  bring 
164    &  not  let  vnder  8  the  danish  ~King 
haue  litle  England  att  his  will." 

then  without  any  stirropp  verament 

into  the  saddle  he  sprent, 
168        &  sate  there  sadd  and  still. 

our  ~King  said,  "  by  gods  grace 
this  riseth  ffrom  a  light  liuerues,9 

and  of  an  Egar  will. 

172    I  neuer  kneww  no  man  thai  soe  cold  haue  done, 
but  old  Sir  Guy  of  warw[i]cke  towne, 

thai  curteous  knight  himselfe.10  " 


1  MS.  albe  spread. — F.     all  bespread. 
—P. 

2  With    Hauberk    glitterand   bright, 
query. — P. 

3  MS.  breeue.— F. 

4  boar,  qw. — P.    Bore  is  the  old  word ; 
but  the  rhyme  with  fcare  makes   the 
change  necessary.     See  too  1.  39. — F. 

*  prayers  thore. — P. 


6  from  dead  on  live,  q. — P. 

7  borrow,  ab.  A.-S.  beorgan;  servare, 
custodire. — P. 

8  delend.— P. 

9  nimbleness.    See  liuer,  vol.  i.  p.  17, 
1.   46.      Fr.   deli'vre  de  so,  personne,  an 
active  nimble  wight.     Cotgrave. — F. 

10  himsel.    Boreal.  D.— P. 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


533 


[The  Second  Part.] 

[How  Sir  Guy  fights  and  kills  the  Danish  Giant.] 

The  Gyant  was  the  ffirst  thai  tooke  the  place 
176         vglye  he  was,  and  ffoule  of  fface  ; 
the  danish  men  began  to  smile, 
he  wold  neither  runne  nor  leape, 
2?  parte<^  but  layd  all  his  weapons  vpon  a  heape, 

&  dryd  l  himselfe  for  guile 
that  he  might  choose  of  the  best, 
that  who-soeuer  with  them  hee  hitt, 
w/u'ch  warr  that  hard  while. 

184    Trumpetts  made  steeds  to  stampe  &  stare; 
the  King  of  denmarke,  he  was  there, 

the  King  of  England  alsoe. 

then  the  King  of  Denmarke  a  booke  out  breade,2 
188    &  sware  theron,  as  the  story  sayes, — 
behold  &  take  good  heed  :  — 

"  if  the  Gyant  had  the  warre,3 
of  England  he  wold  neuer  cleame  more, 
192         neither  nye  nor  ffurr.4  " 

the  kinge  of  England  was  there  alsoe  ; 
the  same  othe  he  sware  alsoe, — 
behold  and  take  good  heede,5 — 

196    "if  the  pore  palmer  had  the  wore, 

of  England  he  wold  neuer  claime  more, 

while  his  liffe  dayes  last  wold." 
&  thus  their  trothes  together  they  strake, 
200    they  said  their  poyntment  shold  not  slake, 
nor  exile  out  off  Arr.6 


The  foul 
Giautcomes, 


stands  still, 

and  tries  his 
weapons. 


King 
Avelocke 


that  if  the 

Giant  is 

beaten, 

he'll  never 

claim 

England 

again. 

Athelstan 

swears  that 

if 


his  Palmer 
is  beaten 
he'll  not 
claim 
England. 


1  forte  dress  d. — P.     tried. — F. 

2  breide,  braide,  arose,  &c.,  also  pulled 
out,  drew,  Gl.  ad  Chauc. — P. 

3  werre  for  werrs. — P. 


4  i.e.  nigh  nor  far. — P. 

5  corrupt. — P. 

6  mold,  q._ P. 


534 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


The  Giant 
says  that 
he'll 


kill  or  drown 
Guy, 


and  crown 
Avelocke 
King  of 
England. 


The  Giant 
and  Guy 
cross  to  an 
island  in 
two  barges. 

Guy  pushes 
his  barge  off 


into  the 
stream, 


saying  that 


one  is 
enough  to 
carry  the 
victor  back. 


then  the  Gyant  loud  did  crye  : 
to  the  ~King  of  Denmarke  l  these  words  says  hee, 
204         "  behold  &  take  good  heede  ! 
yonder  is  an  Hand  in  the  sea  ; 
ffrom  me  he  can-not  scape  away, 
nor  passe  my  hands  indeed  ; 

208    "  but  I  shall  either  slay  him  with  my  brand, 
or  drowne  him  in  yonder  salt  strand2; 

ffro  me  he  shall  not  scape  away, 
then  I  will  with  my  owne  hand 
212    crowne  thee  king  of  litle  England 
ffor  euer  and  ffor  aye." 

thai  was  true,  as  the  ~K.ing  of  denmarke  thought ; 
comanded  2  barges  fforth  to  be  brought, 
216         &  either  into  one  was  done. 

the  Gryant  was  3  the  ffirst  thai  ore  did  passe. 
&  as  soone  as  hee4  to  the  Hand  come  was, 
his  barge  there  he  thrust  him  fFrom  ; 

220    with  his  ffoote  &  with  his  hand 

he  thrust  his  barge  ffrom  the  Land, 

with  the  watter  he  lett  itt  goe, 
he  let  itt  passe  ffrom  him  downe  the  streame. 
224    then  att  him  the  Gyant  wold  ffreane  5 
why  he  wold  doe  soe. 

then  bespake  the  Palmer  anon-right, 
"  hither  wee  be  come  ffor  to  flight 
228         till  the  tone  of  vs  be  slaine  ; 
2  botes  brought  vs  hither, 
&  therfore  came  not  both  together, 
but  one  will  bring  vs  home.6 


1  MS.  Demmarke. — F. 

2  Cp.  "then  I  was  ware  of  a  runing 
strand"    Eger  &  Grime,  vol.  i.  p.  360, 
1.  187.— F. 

8  It  showed  be  '  Sir  Guy  was.' — P. 


<  Guy.— F. 

5  f rein,  frame,  interrogare,  Jun. — P. 

6  Percy  adds  (againe)     ?  Home  is  for 
hame. — F. 


GUY   AND    COLEBBANDE. 


535 


232    "  ffor  thy  Bote  thou  hast  yonder  tyde,  [page  352] 

oner  in  thy  bote  I  trust  to  ryde  ; 

&  therfore  Gyant,  beware  !  " 
trumpetts  blew,  &  bade  them  goe  toote, 
236    the  one  [on]  horsbacke,  the  other  on  ffoote  l  ; 
but  Guy  to  god  was  darre.2 

S^r  Guy  weened  well  to  doo, 
he  tooke  a  strong  speare  &  rode  h[i]ni  too, 
240         he  was  in  a  good  intent : 
althoe  he  rode  neuer  soe  ffast, 
his  strong  speare  on  the  Gyant  hee  brast, 
thai  all  to  shiuers  itt  went. 

244     &  then  Sir  Guy  anon-right 

drew  out  his  sword  thai  was  soe  bright, 

thai  many  a  man  beheld, 
&  on  the  Gyaiit  he  smote  3  soe 
248    thai  a  quarter  of  his  sheild  fell  him  ffroe, 
euen  vntill  the  ffeild. 

the  Gyant  against  him  made  him  bowne  4  ; 
horsse  &  man  &  all  came  downe 
252         vpon  the  ground  5  soe  greene. 
throughout  Sir  Guyes  steede 
the  Gyants  sword  to  the  ground  yeed  6  ; 
such  stroakes  haue  seldome  7  beene  seene. 

256    then  Sir  Guy  started  on  his  feete  ffull  tyte,8 
&  on  the  Gyant  cold  hee  smite 

as  a  man  thai  had  beene  woode  ; 
&  vpon  the  Gyant  he  smote  soe  ffast 
260    thai  the  Gyants  strong  armour  all  to-brast ; 
there-out  sprang  the  bloode. 


The 

trumpets 

sound, 


and  Sir  Guy 
charges. 


He  shivers 
his  spear  on 
the  Giant, 


draws  his 
sword, 


and  cuts  off 
part  of  his 
shield. 


The  Giant 
knocks  Guy 
over, 


and  cuts  his 
horse  right 
through. 


Guy  cuts 


through  the 
Giant's 
armour, 
and  draws 
blood. 


1  There  is  a  mark  between  the  /  and 
o  in  the  MS.— F. 

2  deare,  q.— P. 

8  snote  in  the  MS. — F. 
4  ready.— P 


5  One  stroke  too  many  in  the  MS. — F. 

6  passed. — P. 

7  seld  or  seeld,  q.— P. 

8  Light,  q.— P. 


536 


GUY   AND    COLEBEANDE. 


The  Giant 
knocks  off 
the  jewelled 
crest  of 
Guy's  helm, 


then  the  Gyant  hitt  Sir  Guy  vpon  the  helme  ; 
aboue  on  his  head  the  stroake  itt  ffell ; 
264        itt  was  with  stones  sett, 

itt  was  with  precyous  stones  made  ; 
Sir  Guys  helmett  neere  assunder  yode  l  ; 
such  stroakes  of  men  beene  drade. 


and  then 
asks  leave 

o  drink ; 


268    then  the  Gyant  thirsted  sore  ; 

some  of  his  blood  he  had  lost  thore  2 ; 

&  this  he  sayd  on  hye  : 
"  good  Sir,  &  itt  be  thy  will, 
272    giue  me  leaue  to  drinke  my  mil, 
fibr  sweete  S*  Charytye  ; 


he'll  let  Guy 
do  the  same. 


Guy  gives 
him  leave, 


"  and  I  will  doe  thee  the  same  deede 
another  time,  if  thou  haue  neede, 
276        I  tell  the  certainlye." 

"  why,  vpon  that  couenant,"  Sir  Guy  can  sayine, 
"  goe  &  drinke  thy  mil,  &  come  againe, 
and  heere  lie  abyde  thee." 


the  Giant 
drinks, 


and  they 
fight  till 
noon. 


280    beside  them  there  the  riuer  ran  ; 

the  Gyant  went  &  reffresht  him  then, 

&  came  ffull  soone  againe. 
ffrom  that  itt  was  lowe  prime 
284    till  itt  was  hye  noone, 

the  delten  strokes  with  maine.3 


Then  Guy 
thirsts 


but  the  sword  that  Sir  Guy  had  lead, 
therewith  he  kept  his  head, 
288        stoode  oft  in  poynt  ffor  to  be  slaine. 
then  Sir  Guy  thirsted  sore  ; 
he  had  rather  haue  had  drunke  there 
then  haue  had  England  &  almaigne 4 


yade. — P. 

2  So  Chaucer  ER  1853,  pro  tho,  vel 
there,  metri  gratia. — P. 


3  amaine,  q. — P. 

4  Germany. — P. 


GUY   AND   COLEBRANDE. 


537 


292    "  good  Sir,  iff  itt  be  thy  will, 

lett  me  goe  now  &  drinke  my  mil, 

beffore  as  I  did  thee." 

"  nay,"  then  sayd  the  Gyant,  "  I  were  to  blame 
296    vnlesse  that  I  knew  thy  name, 
I  tell  thee  certainlye." 

"  why  then,"  quoth  hee,  "  He  neue[r]  swicke  l ; 
my  name  is  Guy  of  warwicke  ; 
300        what  shold  I  longer  layne  2  to  thee  ?  " 
the  Gyant  sayd,  "  soe  might  I  swinke,3 
doest  thou  thinke  He  let  thee  drinke  ? 
no  !  not  ffor  all  Cristentye  ! 

304    "  Ah  ha  !  "  qwoth  the  Gyant,  "  haue  I  Sir  Guy  here  ? 
in  all  this  world  is  not  a  4  peere. 

ffor  ought  that  thou  can  doe  or  deale,5 
thy  head  [I]  shall  present  my  Lady  the  Queene, 
308    I  tell  thee  certainlye  [bedeene.]  6  " 

then  Sir  Guy  towards  the  riuer  came. 

the  Gyant  was  not  light,  but  after  him  went ; 
the  Gyant  Layd  after  Guy  with  strokes  strong, 
312        but  Guy  was  light,  &  lope  againe  to  the  Land7 ; 
ffor  ere  he  cold  any  stroke  of  Sir  Guy  woone,8 
Guy  had  beene  in  the  riuer  9  to  the  chune,10 
&  dranke  that  did  him  gaine. 

316    &  vp  he  start,  &  sayd  there  : 

"  thou  ffoule  traitor  !  I  will  thee  loue  noe  more11  ! 
ffor  thy  trechery,  tray  tor,  thou  shalt  abuy  12  !  " 


and  asks  the 
Giant  to  let 
him  drink. 


"You  may  if 
you'll  tell  me 
your  name." 


"  Guy  of 
Warwick.' 


"  Then  you 

sha'n't 

drink. 


I'll  give 
your  head 
to  my 


However, 
Guy  goes 
into  the 
river, 


[page  353] 

up  to  his 
chin,  and 
drinks. 


Then  he 
reproaches 
the  Giant 
for  his 
treachery, 


1  swik,  fallere,  decipere.     Lye.    G.D. 
102,  38.— P. 

laine  celare. — P. 
labor,  toil.— P. 

his.— F.  5  delend,  q.— P. 

Added  by  Percy.— F. 
The  Giant  did  not  lag  behind  him 
long, 

VOL.  II.  N  N 


But    layd   after    Guy  with   strokei 

strong. 
Guy  lope  on  the  Lawd  againe. — P. 

8  winne,  q. — P. 

9  Only  half  the  u  in  the  MS.— F. 

10  chinne.— P. 

11  leave  no  mair,.q. — P. 

12  reel,   q.— P.    '  Perhaps    "  kneele " 
compare  1.  327. — Dyce. 


538 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


and  hits  him 
a  stroke 


that  cuts 


down  to  his 
skull. 


these  words  spake  good  S^r  Guy, 
320    &  liffted  vp  his  swordd  on  hye, 

&  sales,  "  good  stroakes  thou  shalt  ffeele." 
then  Sir  Guy  att  the  Gyant  smote 
a  dint  thai  wonderffull  byterlye  bote  : 
324        he  smote  assunder  Iron  &  steele  ; 

Sir  Guys  sword  through  the  basnett l  ran, 
&  glased  2  vpon  his  braine  pan, 
&  the  Gyant  began  to  kneele. 


The  Giant 
knocks  Guy 
down. 


328    &  then  the  Gyant  att  Sir  Guy  smote 
a  dint  thai  wonderffull  3bitterlye  bote  ; 

he  smote  S^r  Guy  downe  to  the  ground. 
Sir  Guy  was  neuer  soe  discomffitted  before  ; 
332    but  through  4  the  might  of  him  thai  Marye  bore, 
releeued  him  againe  in  thai  stonde. 


Guy  thinks 
on  Christ, 


he  thought  on  Christ  thai  suffered  wounds  5, 
&  raised  Lazarus  ffrom  d[e]ath  to  liffe, 
336        &  vpon  the  crosse  was  wound, 
to  giue  him  grace  to  quitt  thai. 
&  then  his  sword  in  his  hand  he  gatt, 
&  narr  5  the  Gyant  did  hee  stand,6 


sticks  the 
Giant 

through  the 
breast-plate, 


but  breaks 
his  sword. 


340    &  att  the  Gyant  there  he  smote 

a  dint  thai  wonderffull  bitterly e  bote  ; 

through  kis  brest-plate  his  sword  he  stake.7 
&  as  Sir  Guy  wold  haue  wrested  itt  out, 
344    his  good  sword  broke  w*th-ou[t]  all 8  doubt, 
within  the  hiltes  itt  brake  ; 


1  Bassnet,     Helmet,     or    Head-piece 
(French)  Gl.  ad  GK  D.— P.  A  light  helmet, 
shaped  like  a  skull-cap.     Fairholt. — F. 

2  glanced  or  grazed,  q. — P. 

*  *»«  with  one  dot  for  bi  in  the  MS.— F. 


4  delend.— P. 

5  i.e.  nearer. — P. 

6  stond,  q.— P. 

7  strake,  Qu.— P. 

8  without  all,  q. — P. 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


539 


&  theratt  loughe  the  Danisli  JLing, 
&  Athelstone  made  much  mour[n]ing 
348        to  heare  how  the  Gyant  spake  : 

"  now  thou  hast  broken  thy  sword  &  thy  sheeld, 
here  is  no  wepons  ffor  to  weld ; 

therfore  yeeld  thee  to  mee  swythe,1 
352    &  I  will  thy  arrand  soe  doo, 

&  to  Auelocke  our  K.ing  He  speake  flbr  thee, 

to  grant  thee  land  and  liffe, 
thai  thou  durst  ifor  thy  Chiualrye 
356    be  soe  bold  as  flight  with  mee 

that  am  2  soe  stifle  and  stithe.3  " 


The  Giant 
tells  him 


he  had 
better  yield 
at  once,  and 

Avelocke 
will  grant 
him  land 
and  life. 


"  nay  !  "  sayd  Sir  Guy,  "by  heauen  Queene, 
that  sight  by  me  shall  neuer  be  seene, 

[forsooth  I  do  thee  tell.] 
360    flbr  I  shall  kindle  thy  "Kings  cares  4  : 

through  the  Might  of  him  thai  Marry  bare, 
with  stroakes  I  shall  thee  flell." 


Guy  refuses. 


the  Gyant  laught,  &  loud  gan  crye, 
364    "  why  speakest  thou  masterflullye  ? 

hearke  what  I  shall  thee  tell : 
thou  hast  broken  thy  sword  &  thy  sheeld, 
&  thou  hast  noe  weapons  thy  selfe  to  weld, 
368        nor  5  here  is  none  to  sell." 


But,  says  the 
Giant, 


you  ve  no 
weapons  to 
fight  with. 


372 


"  no,"  sayd  Sir  Guy,  "  I  know  better  cheape  ; 
yonder  lyes  a  great  cart-load  on  a  heape, 

that  thou  thy-selfe  hither  did  bring." 
"  then  the  wold  laugh  me  to  scorne,  my  Lords  manye, 
if  of  my  wepons  I  shold  let  thee  take  anye, 

my  selfe  downe  ffbr  to  dinge." 


"  I'll  help 
myself  from 
your  heap." 


1  soon,    instantly. — P.      There 
stroke  between  to  and  mee. — F. 
.    2  ann  in  the  MS— F. 


a          8  Stithe,    rigidus,  validus,    strenuus. 
Lye.— P. 

4  care,  q.— P.  5  ?  MS.  now.— F. 

N  N  2 


540 


GUY  AND   COLEBRANDE. 


Guy  seizes  a 
Danish  axe, 


cuts  off  the 

Giant's 

sword-arm, 


and  then,  as 
he  stoops, 


his  head. 


The  Danes 


flee, 


and  take 
their  king 
home, 


then  S*r  Guy  to  the  weapons  went : 
376    a  danish  1  axe  in  his  hand  hee  hent, 

&  lightlye  about  his  head  he  can  itt  ffling. 

the  Gyant  vpon  the  sholder  he  smote ; 

the  sword  and  arme  ffell  to  hys  2  ffoote, 
380        this  was  noe  leasinge. 

then  as  he  wold  haue  stooped,  as  I  vnde[r]  stand, 
to  haue  taken  vp  his  sword  in  his  other  hand 

to  haue  wreaked  him  of  thai  wrathe, 
384    Sir  Guys  axe  was  sharpe,  &  share, 
the  Gyants  head  he  smote  of  there, 

bremelye  3  in  that  breath. 


&  then  the  Danish  men  gan  say 
388    to  our  Englishmen,  "  well-away 


392 


as  they 
swore  to 
claim 

England  no 
more. 


[page  354] 


that  euer  wee  came  in  JOUY  griste  4  !  " 
they  ran  &  they  rode  ouer  hill  &  slade  6  ; 
much  haste  home- ward  they  made 

with  sorrow  &  care  enough. 


they  hyed  them  ouer  the  salt  ffome 
to  bring  the  ~K.ing  of  denmarke  hame 

w^th  sorrow  and  mickle  care  ; 
396    ffor  they  haue  left  behind  them  slaine 
a  {full  ffoule  Lodlye  6  swayne, 

both  of  head  and  hayre. 

ffor  their  trothes  they  had  truly  plight, 
400    that  '  as  they  were  true  ~K.ing  and  Knight, 
of  England  neuer  to  clayme  more.' 

&  then  to  the  body  they  sett  his  head ; 

his  sword  in  his  hand  was  lead,7 
404        8the  strongest  that  euer  man  bo[re]. 


1  See  note  •  to  1.   169,  p.  68,  vol.  i. 
— F. 

2  The  y  is  dotted  as  in  old  MSS.— F. 
*  breme,  ferox,  atrox.     Lye. — P. 

4  ?  MS.  grisle.—  F. 


*  A.-S.  slad,  a  slade ;  plain,  open  tract      MS.— F. 


of  country.    Bosworth. — F. 

6  filthy.— P. 

7  laid,  q.— P. 

8  $  stanke  as  did  the  tike  is  crossed 
out  at  the  beginning  of  this  line  in  the 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


541 


the  Gyants  blood  was  blacke  &  red, 
his  body  was  like  the  beaten  lead, 

&  stanke  as  did  the  tyke.1 
408    then  the  Layd  the  head  to  the  corse, 
&  the  arme  againe  to  the  bodye  alsoe, 

&  buryed  them  both  in  a  diche.2 


The  Giant's 


corpse 


is  buried. 


great  hauocke  our  Englishmen  made.  The  English 

412    of3  the  great  cart-loade  of  weapons  thai  were  made,4   over  MS 

weapons. 

they  loughe,  &  good  game  they  made.5 
thai  the  axe  out  of  Denmarke  was  brought, 
the  Gyants  head  of  to  smyte,6 
416        the  thanked  christ  that  tyde. 


&  then  the  "King  beffore  the  palmer  did  kneele, 
sayes,  "  thou  art  blest,  I  wott  itt  weele, 

of  god  and  our  Ladye." 

420    the  palmer,  in  his  hart  hee  was  full  sore 
when  he  saw  our  king  kneele  him  before  ; 

"  stand  vp,  my  lord !  "  sayd  hee, 
"  ffor  well  I  wott  itt  was  his  deede 
424    that  ffor  vs  vpon  a  crosse  did  bleede 
vpon  the  mount  of  Caluarye." 

&  then  our  king  after  that, 
in  the  honor  of  this  battell  great, 
428        this  deed  hee  caused  to  be  done  : 

gard  them  to  take  vp  the  axe  &  the  sword, 
&  keepe  them  well  in  royall  ward, 
&  bring  them  to  Winchester  towne, 

432    &  hang  them  vp  on  St.  Swythens  church  on  hye 
that  all  men  7  there  may  see, 


Athelstan 
thanks  Guy. 


Guy 


gives  the 
victory  to 
Christ. 


Afihelatan 


has  the 
Giant's 
sword  and 
axe  hung 
up  in 


St.  Swithin's 
Church  in 
Winchester. 


1  tike,  Eicinus,  [tick,]  a  dog-louse. 
In  Shakespear  it  is  used  for  a  little  dog. 
Johnson. — P. 

*  Dyke,  q.-P. 

8  at.— P. 

4  laid,  q.— P. 


5  &  did  deryde,  q. — P. 

6  that  smote,  q. — P. 

7  mem  in  the  MS. — F.     There  is  no 
tradition   in    Winchester  of  Gruy's   axe 
and    sword    ever  having    been    in   St. 
Swithin's  church. — Bailey. 


542 


GUY   AND   COLEBRANDE. 


tliither  if  they  wold  ffare.1 
I  tell  you  the  weapons  be  there  &  thore 
436    but  of  this  matter  He  tell  you  more, 
hastylye  and  soone. 


[The  Third  Part.] 

[How  Sir  Guy  turns  Hermit,  and  sends  for  his  Wife  as  he  dies.] 


A  procession 
of  monks, 


Te  Deum, 

meets 

Athelstan, 


who  offers 
Guy  castles 
and  towers. 


Guy  asks 
only  for  his 
staff  and 
pike. 


440 


3?  parte 


Then  all  religious  of  the  towne, 

they  mett  the  King  with  ffaire  procession ; 

&  other  psalmes  amonge,2 
te  deum  was  theire  song, 
&  other  praises  there  amonge, 

that  plaused  3  the  Lords  to  pray, 
the  profferred  the  palmer  att  that  tyde, 
castles  hye  &  towers  wyde, 
^     good  horsses  to  assay. 
"  Nay,"  saies  he,  "  giue  me  thai  is  mine, 
448    my  scripp  &  my  pike  &  my  slauen,4 
&  lett  me  wend  my  way." 


444 


ffor  all  they  profferred  him  there, 
he  fforsooke  them  :  wold  haue  no  more  5 
452        but  that  with  him  he  brought. 

&  then  our  'King  with  him  forth  on  his  way  went ; 
to  know  his  name  was  his  entent ; 
.     "  but  all,"  he  sayd,  "  is  ffor  nought, 
Guy  tells  455    without  you  wilbe  sworne  vnto  me, 

ffor  12  monthes  in  councell  itt  shalbe, 


The  King 
goes  with 
him  and 
asks  his 


1  gone.— P. 

2  all  their  Pso/ms  'gan  say,  q. — P. 

3  It  pleased,  q.— P. 

*  Slaveine,  a  pilgrim's  mantle.  Sara- 
barda,  Anglice  a  sclavene.  Halliwell. 
Fr.  Esclavine  as  Esclauune  (a  long  and 
thicke  riding  cloake  to  beare  off  the  raine ; 


a  Pilgrims  cloake  or  mantle ;  a  cloake 
for  a  traueller ;)  or  a  sea-gowne ;  or  a 
course  high-collered,  and  short-sleeued 
gowne,  reaching  downe  to  the  mid-leg, 
and  vsed  most  by  seamen  and  Saylors. 
Cotgrave,  A.D.  1611. — F. 
6  mair,  q. — P. 


GUY  AND   COLEBRANDE. 


543 


by  him  thai  all  this  world  has  wrought." 
&  when  our  JLing  had  sworne  him  too, 
460    "why,  my  name,"  he  sayes,  "is  Guy  of  warwicke,  loe ! 
&  this  ffor  thee  I  haue  ffought." 


him  under  a 
vow  of 
secresy. 


Athelstan 
offers  him 
half  of 
England 
to  stay. 

Guy  refuses, 
he  must  go  a 
pilgrimage 


"0,"  said  our  K.ing,  "  Sir  Guy,  abyde  w^th  mee, 
&  halfe  of  England  I  will  giue  thee, 
464        &  assunder  wee  will  neuer." 

"  nay,  I  thanke  you  my  lord  curteous  &  kind,1 
I  haue  a  pilgramage  great  to  wend, 

ffrom  sinne  my  soule  to  couer.2 
468    Sometimes  I  was  one  of  jour  Erles  wight,3    [page  355] 
but  now  age  &  trauell  hath  me  dight ; 

ffarwell,  my  Lord,  ffor  euer ! 
for  to  warwicke  wend  will  I, 

472    to  speake  w^'th  fayre  ffcelix4  my  wiffe,  before  I  dye,      to  Warwick, 
for  nothing:  I  had  leauer."  to  see  his 

wife. 


he  had  beene  in  battell  stiffe  &  strong, 
&  smitten  w^th  wepons  that  were  long, 
476        &  bidden  many  a  drearye  day : 

when  the  parted,  they  both  did  weepe. 
Sir  Guy  held  downe  the  hye  street,5 
in  6  warwicke  where  he  lay. 


Guy 
journeys 


480    &  when  he  came  to  warwicke  towne, 
his  owne  countesse  to  dinner  was  bowne 

&  all  masses  were  sayd. 
ffor  ffeare  lest  any  man  shold  him  Ken, 
484    he  sett  him  downe  among  the  poore  godsmen, 
&  held  him  well  pleased.1 


to  Warwick, 
finds  his 
Countess  at 
dinner, 


and 

sits  down 

among  the 

poor 

godsmen. 


hend,  q. — P. 
2  pronounced    Jdver;    perhaps    sever. 


—P. 


8  stout,  active. — P. 
4  Felice,  in  Ellis.— F. 


5  i.e.  the  High-way.     Qu.    the  high 
Koman  Eoad. — P. 

6  to,  q. — P. 

7  well*apaid,  q.   (eodem  fere  sensu.) 


544 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


The 

Countess 
feeds  daily 
13  palmers. 


Guy  goes  in 
as  one, 


his  owne  Ladye  euerye  day  att  her  gate 
13  palmers  in  cold  shee  take 
488        to  dine  w^'th  her  atfc  noone. 

Sir  Guy  was  leane  of  cheeke  &  chinf 
&  thereffore  the  porter  lett  him  in, 
&  12  after  him  did  goe.1 


and  his 
Lady  gives 


him  wine : 
he  gives  it  to 
his  mates. 


492    the  Ladye  see  hee  was  ill  att  ease ; 
shee  ffounded  2  ffast  him  to  please, 

[and  did  him  make  good  cheere  ; 3  ] 
shee  ffett  him  a  pott  of  her  best  wine : 
496    he  dealt4  itt  about  him  at  that  time, 
all  to  his  ffellowes  there. 


leave  of  his 
Lady. 

She  bids  her 
steward 


then  after  dinner,  as  saith  the  booke, 
leaue  of  his  owne  Ladye  he  tooke 
500        before  them  in  the  hall. 

the  Ladye  called  her  steward  vnto ; 
shee  sayd,  "  my  bidding  looke  thou  doe." 
"Madam,"  hee  sayd,  "  I  shall." 


tell  him  to 
come  to 
dinner  every 
day. 


504    "why  then,  goe  to  yonder5  pore  palmer, 
&  bidd  him  come  euerye  day  to  dinner 

before  me  in  this  hall ; 
ffor  an  honest  man  6  he  hath  beene 
508    when  he  was  younge  &  kept  cleane, 
as  may  be  well  scene."7 


The  steward 
gives  Guy 
the  message. 


the  steward  wold  no  longer  abyde, 
but  went  after  the  palmer  that  tyde, 


1  gone,  q.— P. 

2  fond,    found,     to    try,    endeavour. 
A.S.fandian,  tentare.     Urry,  Jun. — P. 

3  A  Line  wanting : 

"And  bade  (or  did)  him  make   good 
cheere."  q.— P. 


4  him  follows,  marked  out. — F. 

5  yomder  in  the  MS. — F. 

6  MS.  me.     A.-S.  mag  is  a  relation, 
friend,  neighbour. — F. 

7  as  may  be  scene  of  all,  q.  —P. 


GUY    AND   COLEBRANDE. 


545 


512        &  did  as  the  Ladye  him  bede ; l 

says,  "  well  greetes  you  my  Ladye  mild  of  cheer e, 
prayes  you  euery  day  to  come  to  dinner,2 
giffe  thai  itt  be  yo^r  will." 

516    the  palmer  made  answer  her  steward  vnto3; 
say,  "  I  pray  to  christ  grant  her  that  meede 

that  welds  both  welth  and  witt ! 
a  litle  ffurther  I  haue  to  ffare, 
520    to  speake  with  an  hermitt  here, 
giff  I  can  with  him  hitt." 


Guy  says 


he  must  go 
on  to  an 


"  an  hermitt  is  dead,  I  vnderstand, 
&  here  a  hermitage  stands  vacand, 
524        as  [I]  doe  vnderstand."4 

&  there  he  lined,  the  truth  to  say, 
till  itt  was  his  ending  day, 

&  serued  christ  our  King ; 
528    he  neuer  eate  other  meate 
but  herbes  and  rootes  greate, 

&  dranke  the  water  of  a  springe. 


empty 

hermitage 

near. 


He  goes, 
lives  on 


herbs,  roots, 
and  water, 


then  he  hyred  him  a  litle  page 
532    that  was  but  13  yeeres  of  age, 

he  was  both  ffayre  and  ffeate  5  ; 
&  euery  day  when  the  noone  bell  rang, 
the  litle  ladd  to  the  towne  must  gang, 
536        to  ffeitch  6  the  Ladyes  liuerye.7 


and  his 


daily  at 
noon 

fetches  the 
Countess's 
allowance  to 
him. 


1  as  ye  Lady  did  him  tell. 

As  the  Ladye  bade  him  till  or  tell. 
q.-P. 

2  dinnere,  q. — P. 

8  to  her  Steward  answer  made,  q. — P. 

4  Half  a    Stanza    or  more  wanting. 
These  seem  to  be  the  Steward's  words. 
—P. 

5  MS.  may  be  feale. — F.     feate,q. — P. 
"  both  ffayre  and  ffeate  was  he." — Dyce. 

6  to  fet,  q.— P. 


7  delivery,  allowance  of  food.  Fr. 
Livree,  A  deliuerie  of  a  thing  thats 
giuen ;  and  (but  lesse  properly)  the  thing 
so  giuen ;  hence,  a  Liuerie  ;  Ones  cloth, 
colours,  or  deuice  in  colours  worn  by  his 
servants,  or  others.  La  Livree  des 
Chanoines.  Their  liuerie,  or  corrodie; 
their  stipend,  exhibition,  daillie  allow 
ance  in  victualls  or  money.  Cotgrave. 
— F. 


546 


GUT   AND    COLEBKANDE. 


At  last  a 
death-sick 
ness  takes 
G-uy ; 


the  Ladye  was  gladd,  as  I  vnderstand ; 
shee  gaue  itt  with  her  owne  handes,1 

and  gladd  itt  soe  shold  bee. 
540    but  there  he  lined,  as  sayth  the  booke, 
till  a  sicknesse  there  him  tooke, 

thai  needlye2  he  must  dye. 


an  angel 
comes  to 
him 

to  warn  him 
he  shall 
die- 


One  night  as  Sir  Guy  lay  in  vysion, 
544    there  came  an  Angell  downe  ffrom  heauen 
to  lett  him  vnderstand. 

he  was  as  light  as  any  leame,3 

as  bright  as  any  sunn  beames. 
548        with  thai  wakened  Sir  Guy.4 


[page  356] 


St.  Michael, 
from  God. 


552 


He  sayes,  "  I  coniure  in  the  power  of  lesus  christ 5 
to  tell  me  wether  thou  be  an  euill  angell  or  a  good ! " 

he  sayd,  "  I  hett  Michall. 

I  came  ffrom  him  thai  can  both  loose  and  bind 
both  mee,  and  thee,  and  all  mankind, 

both  heauen,  earth,  and  hell." 


Sir  Guy 
sends  his 


to  tell  his 
wife  to 
come  to  him. 


&  then  Sir  Guy  his  ring  out  raught 
556    to  the  litle  ladd,  and  him  taught, 

&  bidd  he  shold  "  goe  snell 6 
to  her  thai  hath  beene  true  to  mee, 
&  pray  her  to  come,  my  end  and  see  ; 
560        ffor  nothing  thai  shee  dwell.7  " 


The  page 
goes  to  the 
Countess, 


the  litle  lad  made  him  bowne 
till  he  came  to  warwicke  towne. 


1  hand.— P. 

2  so  Chaucer,  for  needs  must. — P. 

8  Leame,  leme,  a  flame,  a  Light,  a  blaze. 
Chauc.  Urry.  Jun. — P.  A.-S.  leoma. 
— F. 

4  Sir  Guy  wakende,  q.— P. 


6  Jesus'    blood,    q.    I    conjure    thee 
by  ye  Roode.     Qu.— P. 

6  snell,  celer,  pernix,  citus,  agilis.  A.-S. 
snel.  Lye. — P. 

7  dwelle,  to  stay,  tarry.     Chauc.   Isl. 

dwelia,   est  cessare,  morari.  Jun.    Lye. 
p 


GUY   AND   COLEBRANDE. 


547 


the  Oountesse  soone  hee  ffound ; 
564    before  her  he  kneeled  on  his  knee  ; 

saith,  "  well l  greeteth  you  my  ~Lord,  Sir  Guy  ! 
but  he  is  dead  neere  hand,2 


tells  her 
that  Guy  is 
dying, 


"  &  heere  he  hath  sent  to  you  his  ringe, — 
568    ffull  well  you  know  this  tokeninge, — 

&  bidds  you  hye  him  till." 
a  squier  wold  haue  brought  her  a  palffrey, 
but  shee  tooke  a  neerer  stay  ; 


and  bids  her 
come  to  him. 


572    ffor  knight  ne  squier  none  wold  shee  haue, 
but  ffollow  shee  did  the  litle  knaue  3  ; 

the  way  was  ffayre  and  drye  ; 
ffollow  shee  did  the  litle  ffoot  page 
576    till  shee  came  to  the  hermitage 
wheras  her  lord  did  lye  ; 


She  follows 
the  page 
to  the 
hermitage, 


&  then  the  lady  curteous  &  snell, 
vpon  his  bed-side  downe  shee  ffell 
580        with  many  a  greeuous  grone. 
hee  looked  vpon  her  with  eyes  2,4 
he  neuer  spake  more  words  but  these, 
saying,  "  Madam,  lett  be  thy  flare5 !  " 


and  falls 
down  by 
Guy, 
groaning 
grievously. 

He  tells  her 
to  be  still. 


584    a  man  thai  had  seene  the  sorrow  shee  had, 
&  alsoe  the  contrition  thai  shee  made 

ffor  her  Lord,  Sir  Guy, 
they  wold  haue  shed  many  salt  teares  6  : 
588    soe  did  all  that  with  them  were, 
both  lords  eke  and  Ladyes. 


You'd  have 
cried  to  see 
her  sorrow. 


1  greeth  follows,  marked  out,  in  the 
MS.— F. 

2  bond,  q.— P. 

3  cnafa,  puer. — P. 


4  with  his  eyes,  q. — P. 

8  mone. — P. 

6  many  a  teare,  q. — P. 


548 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE. 


She  says 
she  and  Guy 
were 
together 
only  40 
days; 


then  shee  told  them  how  they  had  loued  long, 
&  were  marry ed  together  when  they  were  younge, 
592        &  lined  together  but  dayes  40  : 
&  afterward  shee  neuer  him  see, 
by  no  knowledge  that  cold  bee, 
of  30  winters  and  three. 


their  child 
was  stolen, 


and  Sir 
Arrarde 
went  to 
seek  it. 


596    then  shee  told  them  of  much  more  woe  : 
theire  younge  child  was  stolen  them  froe  ; 

they  had  neuer  none  but  one. 
S^r  Arrarde  of  Arden  after  him  went 
600    to  seeke  the  child  w^'th  good  intent, 
that  was  true  of  borne  blood.1 


The 

Countess 
goes  to  King 
Athelstan, 


who  tells  her 
how  Guy 
slew  the 
giant. 


&  as  shee  can  2  these  tales  tell, 
in  swooning  downe  shee  ffell 
604        vpon  the  ground  soe  greene  ; 
&  when  shee  was  reuarted  againe, 

shee  wold  neuer  rest  nor  rowe  3 
till  shee  came  our  king  vnto, 
608        her  to  wishe  and  read. 

before  our  king  when  shee  was  brought, 
the  king  told  her  how  Sir  Guy  had  fought 
&  smitten  of  the  Gyants  head : 

612    "  ffast  his  name  I  did  ffreane,4 

but  he  sware  me  that  I  must  leane  5 
ffor  a  12  month  and  a  day." 


Athelstan 
vows  he'll 
bury  Guy  in 
Winchester. 


the  king  said,  "  soe  christ  me  saue  ! 
616    this  Erie  to  Winchester  I  will  haue ; 


1  of  true  blood  borne,  q. — P. 

2  i.  e.  gan.— P.    did.— F. 

8  A.-S.  row,  sweet,  quiet,  repose. — F. 


4  ask.— P. 
6  conceal.— 


GUY   AND    COLEBRANDE.  549 

his  body  there  I  will  interre." 

but  all  that  about  him  there  cold  stand,  But  his 

they  cold  not  remoue  him  with  their  hands  cannot  be 

moved, 

620        nor  ffurther  thence  him  beare. 


a  new  purpose  there  the  tooke  ; 

they  made  a  graue,  as  saith  the  booke, 

before  the  hye  Altar,  and  is  there- 

624    &  buryed  him  in  warwicke,  the  truth  to  say.        in  Warwick, 
the  ladye  liued  after  him  but  dayes  40:  wife,  who 

soon  dies. 

And  there  was  buryed  alsoe.1  [page  357] 


&  then  they  ffounded  a  ffayre  abbey, 
628    &  monkes  ffor  them  to  singe. 

thus  came  the  knight  out  of  his  cares,2 
that  had  beene  in  land  wyde  where, 
that  came  to  England  safe  againe. 

632    now  all  you  that  haue  heard  this  litle  lest,3          Bless  you, 
I  betake  your  soules  to  lesus  christ,  hearers ! 

r,  .      -,  May  you  go 

4  |_to  save  irom  endless  pam,J  to  heaven! 

&  that  wee  may  on  doomesday 
come  to  the  blisse  that  shall  ffor  aye, 
636        with  Angells  to  remaine.  ffins. 


1  alswa,  Chauc.  idem.— P.  3  Properly  Gest.— P. 

2  care. — P.  4  a  Line  wanting. — P. 


550 


[in  3  Parts.— P.] 

$ 

THIS  piece,  now  for  the  first  time  published,  represents  Boyalty 
mixing  freely  and  genially  with  one  of  its  lowest  subjects.  All 
the  splendours  of  majesty  are  for  the  nonce  laid  aside,  the  crown 
done  off,  the  sceptre  laid  down ;  and  the  King  wanders  forth  as  a 
common  man,  and  fraternizes  with  common  men.  Such  a  de 
scending  from  its  height  down  to  the  level  of  the  humblest,  was, 
as  we  have  said  in  the  Introduction  to  the  King  and  Miller,  a 
picture  of  monarchy  highly  agreeable  to  the  popular  taste — (see 
p.  147  above).  The  value  of  the  following  piece,  however,  does  not 
lie  so  much  in  the  picture  of  such  a  fellowship  as  in  the  por 
trayal  of  a  villain's  life  and  circumstances  that  it  gives.  The 
hero  of  this  piece  is  not  the  King  ;  it  is  the  villain.  The  King 
appears,  but  as  a  good-humoured  genial  presence,  who  can  forget 
his  dignity  and  enjoy  a  frolic  with  the  best.  All  the  powers  of 
the  poet  are  devoted  to  the  description  and  portraiture  of  the 
villain.  He  understands  best  the  life  of  the  villain ;  his  sympa 
thies  go  with  it ;  his  great  delight  is  to  depict  it. 

I  incline  to  believe  that  the  piece  was  originally  written 
about  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century.3  It  professes  to 
describe  an  incident  that  took  place  in  the  days  of  King  Edward. 

It  adds : 

Of  that  name  were  Kings  three  ; 
But  Edward  with  the  long  shanks  was  he, 
A  lord  of  great  renown. 


Song  of  King  Edward  Longshanks,  not 

1  De  is  of  course  %e,  i.  e.  the. — H.  unlike  the  King  and  the  Millar. — P. 

2  or  John  the  Eeeve,  i.e.  Bailiff,  vid.  3  Mr.  Wright  assigns  it  to  the  latter 
St.  23.    See  also  St.  7,  P*.  3.      An  Old      part  of  the  fourteenth  century.— H. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE.  551 

The  poem  then  was  written  after  the  death  of  Edward  III., 
that  is,  after  1377  and  before  the  accession  of  Edward  IV., 
that  is,  before  1461.  Its  general  character  shows  that  it  was 
written  at  a  period  when  the  position  and  prospects  of  the 
villain  were  brightening.  It  was  evidently  written  in  the  decad 
ence  of  feudalism,  when  the  darkest  ages  of  villenage  were  fast 
passing  away.  The  bare  notion  of  making  a  villain  a  knight 
could  scarcely  have  occurred  to  any  man's  mind  before  the 
fifteenth  century ;  nor  yet  the  bare  notion  of  a  villain's  delight 
ing  in  his  position.  The  lower  classes  had  already  felt  their 
strength,  and  made  their  strength  felt,  when  John  de  Eeeve  was 
described  with  so  much  respect  and  pride.  The  great  rising  of 
Eichard  II.'s  reign,  however  abortive,  however  completely  foiled 
it  might  have  seemed  at  the  time,  had  produced  a  lasting  effect. 
In  the  course  of  events,  kings  were  presently  to  assume  in 
earnest  that  position  of  leadership  which  Eichard  had  taken 
lyingly  in  Smithfield  in  1381.  This  is  a  poem  of  mirth  and  of 
hope,  not  a  wild  angry  satire,  not  a  deep  bitter  moan.  That 
mighty  exodus  which  the  fifteenth  century  witnessed  is  being 
accomplished.  The  house  of  bondage  is  being  left.  The  land  of 
freedom  is  coming  into  sight. 

The  knight  had  had  poems  sung  and  written  in  his  honour  for 
many  a  long  year.  A  whole  literature  had  celebrated  him ;  he 
is  the  one  star  and  glory  of  the  old  romances.  The  yeoman,  too, 
had  had  his  praises  sung.  His  services  at  Crepy  and  Poictiers 
had  "given  him  an  importance  and  a  celebrity  that  could  not  be 
forgotten.  He  had  become  a  name.  And  now,  at  last,  the  villain 
had  raised  himself  so  far  out  of  the  depths  of  his  abasement,  that 
he  too  was  found  worthy  of  poetic  celebration. 

John  de  Eeeve,  one  of  the  King's  bondmen,  is  represented 
here  as  extremely  well-to-do  and  comfortable  in  his  circum 
stances,  of  a  highly  independent  spirit,  with  a  supreme  contempt 


552  JOHN   DE    REEUE. 

for  penniless  courtiers,  convivial,  and  indulging  his  disposition 
in  that  respect.  He  is  indeed  a  somewhat  coarse-grained  fellow, 
apt  to  brag  of  his  prosperity  when  he  can  do  so  securely, 
illiterate,  prejudiced.  Altogether,  he  is  very  much  what  the 
average  Englishman  of  to-day  is — a  good-hearted  Philistine. 
But  one  thing  mars  his  felicity — his  fear  of  the  King  and  the 
King's  purveyor.  This  constrains  him  to  conceal  his  riches, 
to  simulate  poverty,  to  shrink  from  intercourse  with  wayfarers 
and  strangers. 

This  picture  of  a  villain's  life  may  seem  surprisingly  bright 
and  cheerful.  No  doubt  it  would  be  unwise  to  conclude  that  all 
the  members  of  his  class  were  as  sleek  and  affluent  as  this 
John  de  Keeve.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  unwise  to  conclude 
from  the  laws  that  regulated  it,  that  the  position  of  that  class 
was,  at  least  in  the  latter  feudal  days,  for  the  most  part 
beggarly  and  wretched.  The  wall  of  partition  that  separated 
the  villain  from  the  freeman  was  often  very  slight.  The 
arbitrary  services,  the  exaction  of  which  characterized  his  con 
dition,  assumed  in  course  of  time  a  definite  shape,  so  that  his 
tenure  was  as  little  galling  as  those  of  his  neighbours.  He 
could  prosecute  his  own  interests  as  undisturbedly  as  they.  His 
social  state  would  be  nominally  inferior  to  theirs ;  but  his  oppor 
tunities  of  growing  rich  would  be  as  good,  with  few  drawbacks. 
Probably  there  would  be  often  little  to  choose  between  the  small 
yeoman  and  the  villain.1  Villains  too  had  fought  in  the  English 
ranks  on  the  famous  battle-fields  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries.  That  fearful  pestilence  that  ravaged  the  land  in 
1349  may  be  said  to  have  dealt  villenage  a  blow  from  which  it 
never  recovered.  Free  labourers,  as  Eden  (in  his  State  of  the 
Poor)  remarks,  are  first  specifically  recognised  by  the  legislature 
in  1350.  The  First  Act  of  Richard  the  Second  (cap.  6)  has 
reference  to  complaints  urged  by  the  Lords  and  Commons,  that 

1  Cf.  v.  307  of  the  ballad. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE.  553 

villains  and  land-tenants  withdraw  their  services  "  under  pretext 
of  exemplifications  from  the  Book  of  Domesday,  and  by  their 
evil  interpretation  of  the  same  they  affirm  themselves  to  be  quit 
and  utterly  discharged  of  all  manner  of  servage,  due  as  well 
of  their  body  as  of  their  said  tenures,  and  will  not  suffer  any 
distress  or  other  justice  to  be  made  upon  them,  but  do  menace 
the  ministers  of  their  lords,  and  gather  themselves  together  in 
great  routs,  and  agree  by  such  confederacy  that  every  one  shall 
aid  other  to  resist  their  lords  with  strong  hand,  to  the  great 
damage  of  these  said  lords,  and  evil  example  to  other  to  begin 
such  riots."  These  combinations  did  much  to  advance  the 
position  of  the  working  classes,  as  unions,  with  whatever  ad 
mixture  of  evil,  have  done  since.  How  tremendous  was  their 
power  some  four  years  after  those  complaints  were  submitted  to 
the  royal  ear  and  measures  taken  to  satisfy  them,  is  illustrated 
by  the  eagerness  of  the  King  to  grant  the  four  points  of  the 
charter  the  assembled  mob  then  demanded  of  him.  The  roar 
of  that  mob  was  remembered  for  many  a  day.  (See  Chaucer's 
Nonne  Prest  his  Tale.)  Nor  were  there  wanting  at  the  same 
time  those  who  advocated  the  claims  of  those  insurgents  on  the 
most  general  grounds,  who  dealt  with  the  question  radically. 
Ideas  fatal  to  the  notion  of  thraldom  were  now  growing  into 
predominance  in  France,  in  Flanders,  in  England  and  elsewhere. 
The  Church,  however  lax  its  practice,  had  again  and  again  raised 
its  voice  against  it.  There  is  nowhere  a  nobler  rebuke  of  it 
than  that  given  by  Chaucer's  Parson — "  Thilke  that  thay  clepe 
thralles,"  he  says,  in  that  division  of  his  discourse  that  treats  of 
Avarice  ("  an  adaptation  of  some  chapters  "  of  Frere  Lorens' 
Somme  des  Vices  et  des  Vert  us:  see  Mr.  Morris's  Ayenbite  of 
Inwyt.,  Pref.  p.  ii.),  "ben  Goddes  people;  for  humble  folk  ben 
Cristes  frendes ;  thay  ben  contubernially  with  the  Lord.  Thenk 
eek  as  of  such  seed  as  cherles  springen,  of  such  seed  springe 
lords ;  as  wel  may  the  cherl  be  saved  as  the  lord.  The  same 
VOL.  n.  o  o 


554  JOHN    DE    BEEUE. 

deth  that  takith  the  cherl,  such  death  takith  the  lord.  Wherfor 
I  rede  do  right  so  with  thi  cberl  as  thou  woldist  thi  lord  dide 
with  the,  if  thou  were  in  his  plyt.  Every  sinful  man  is  a  cherl 
as  to  synne.  I  rede  the  certes,  thou  lord,  that  thou  werke  in 
such  a  wise  with  thy  cherles  that  they  rather  love  the  than  drede 
the."  Such  words  as  these  said  more  perhaps  than  their  utterer 
intended.  Certainly,  they  enable  us  to  understand  how  the 
position  of  the  villain  grew  to  be  much  more  tolerable  than  its 
expressed  conditions  would  have  led  us  to  expect. 

Moreover,  the  villain's  hardships  must  have  been  greatly 
alleviated  by  that  resolute  independence  which  forms  so  promi 
nent  a  feature  in  the  native  English  character.  The  Englishman 
would  prove  but  a  stiff-necked,  obstinate,  troublesome  slave— his 
self-willedness  would  go  far  to  protect  him  from  the  worst 
excesses  of  the  hardest  master — his  surliness  would  often  serve 
him  for  a  shield. 

This  ballad  gives  us  a  view  of  both  the  private  and  public  life 
of  the  churl.  We  see  him  as  he  goes  abroad,  and  we  see  him  in 
the  security  of  his  domestic  comfort.  He  makes  no  secret  of  the 
cause  of  those  fears  which  make  him  so  chary  of  his  hospitality, 
which  induce  him  to  cut  such  a  sorry  figure  when  out  of  doors. 
See  v.  103  et  seq.,  v.  199  et  seq.  &c.  His  personal  appearance 
is  described  with  great  care  in  vv.  52-57,  and  again  in  vv.  593- 
650.  He  offers  his  guests  the  poorest  food  and  liquor  at  first. 
(Compare  the  account  of  the  poor  widow's  "sclender  meel"  in 
the  Nonne  Prest  his  Tale.}  No  doubt  his  fears  were  well  grounded. 
"  Thurgh  his  cursed  synne  of  avarice,"  says  the  Parson  whom  we 
have  already  quoted,  "  comen  these  harde  lordschipes,  thurgh 
which e  men  ben  destreyned  by  talliages,  custumes,  and  cariages 
more  than  here  duete  of  resoun  is ;  and  elles  take  thay  of  here 
bondemen  amercimentes,  whiche  mighte  more  resonably  ben 
callid  extorciouns  than  mercymentis.  Of  whiche  mersyments 
and  raunsonyng  of  bondemen,  some  lordes  stywardes  seyn  that  it 


JOHN    DE    REEUE.  555 

is  rightful,  for  as  moche  as  a  cherl  bath  no  temporel  thing  that 
it  nys  his  lordes,  as  thay  sayn.  But  certes  thise  lordeshipes  doon 
wrong  that  bireven  here  bondemen  thinges  that  thay  never  gave 
hem."  When  the  abolition  of  slavery  was  proposed  in  the  first 
Parliament  that  met  after  Wat  Tyler's  insurrection,  "  with  one 
accord,"  writes  Knight  (in  his  Popular  History  of  England), 
fi  the  interested  lords  of  the  soil  replied  that  they  never  would 
consent  to  be  deprived  of  the  services  of  their  bondmen.  But 
they  complained  of  grievances  less  inherent  in  the  structure  of 
society — of  purveyance ;  of  the  rapacity  of  law  officers ;  of  main- 
tainers  of  suits,  who  violated  right  and  law  as  if  they  were  kings 
in  the  country  ;  of  excessive  and  useless  taxation."  "  I  have  no 
doubt,"  says  Eden,  "that  the  tax-gatherers  were  extremely  par 
tial  to  the  rich  and  oppressive  to  the  poor ;  for  notwithstanding 
the  above  instance  of  their  scrupulous  attention  to  levy  the 
utmost  farthing  on  petty  tradesmen  [certain  instances  he  has 
quoted  from  the  valuation  of  movable  property  made  at  Colches 
ter  in  1296,  see  Rot.  Part.  i.  228],  we  find  that  the  master  and 
brethren  of  an  hospital,  besides  their  cattle  and  corn,  only 
accounted  for  one  household  utensil,  a  brass  pot,  and  an  Abbot 
and  a  Prior  paid  only  for  their  corn  and  their  live  stock.  The 
Rector  of  St.  Peter's  seems  to  have  been  equally  fortunate." 

But,  on  whatever  account  John  de  Reeve  may  make  whatever 
pretence  of  direful  penury,  he  is  in  fact  a  man  of  wealth.  He 
may  say  with  Horace's  miser,  "At  mihi  plaudo  ipse  domi." 
He  says: 

"  I  go  girt  in  a  russet  gown, 

My  hood  is  of  homemade  browne, 

I  wear  neither  burnet  nor  green, 
And  yet  I  trow  I  have  in  store 
A  thousand  pounds  and  some  deal  more, 

For  all  ye  are  prouder  and  fine. 

Therefore  I  say,  as  mote  I  thee, 
A  bondman  it  is  good  to  be, 
And  come  of  carles  kin  ; 

o  o  2 


556 


JOHN    DB    REEUE. 


For  and  I  be  in  tavern  set, 
To  drink  as  good  wine  I  will  not  let 
As  London  Edward  or  his  Queen." 

The  Earl  said:  "  By  godes  might, 
John,  thou  art  a  comely  knight 

And  sturdy  in  every  fray." 
"A  knight!"  quoth  John,  " do  away  for  shame ! 
I  am  the  King's  bondman  : 

Such  waste  words  do  away. 

"  I  know  you  not  in  your  estate  ; 
I  am  misnurtured,  well  I  wot ; 

I  will  not  thereto  say  nay. 
But  if  any  such  do  me  wrong 
I  will  fight  with  him  hand  to  hand 

When  I  am  clad  in  mine  array." 

We  must  now  commend  this  most  interesting  ballad  to  our 
readers.1 


1  The  Editors  have  received  the  fol 
lowing  letter  from  Archdeacon  Hale, 
whom  they  here  beg  to  thank : 

Charterhouse,  Dec.  18, 1867. 
Dear  Sir,— I  am  obliged  to  you  for 
the  opportunity  of  reading  the  interesting 
ballad  of  "John  de  Eeeve."  That  he 
designates  himself  as  the  King's  bond 
man,  seems  to  me  to  imply  that  he  was 
of  villain  rank.  I  think  it  probable 
that  the  king's  bondmen,  nativi  and 
villains,  were  proud  of  their  position,  as 
being  attached  to  royalty,  and  as  having 
the  privilege  of  tenants  in  ancient  de 
mesne,  of  not  being  impleaded  or  dis 
trained  except  in  the  king's  courts.  It 
would  seem  from  the  Act  of  Richard  the 
Second,  of  which  mention  is  made  in  the 
preface,  p.  552,  that  they  made  use  of 
this  privilege  to  withdraw  their  services 
from  the  lords  of  manors  in  which  they 
were  tenants,  and  that  they  were  in 
reality  leaders  of  that  resistance  to  the 
rights  of  the  lords  which  produced  the 
disturbances  of  Tyler  and  Cade.  Except 
taillage  ad  voluntatem  domini,  none  of 
the  services  due  from  the  various  classes 
of  villains  appear  to  me  cruel  or  unjust, 


prsedial  service  being  the  rent  paid  for 
the  possession  of  land  by  the  villain  class. 
I  am  inclined  to  think  that  as  trade 
increased  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries,  the  tradesmen  became  pos 
sessors  of  villain  land,  and  that  as  those 
lands  were  accumulated  in  fewer  hands, 
the  prsedial  service  became  more  difficult 
to  be  rendered,  as  well  as  more  unsuit 
able  to  the  personal  position  of  the 
tenant,  who  might  himself  be  a  free 
holder,  liber  tenens,  and  yet  possess 
villain  land.  John  de  Eeeve  had  become 
rich ;  his  name  implies  that  he  had 
come  from  a  family  who  held  office,  pos 
sibly  in  a  royal  manor ;  the  house  in 
which  he  lived  having  a  hall  and  a  dais, 
indicates  the  superior  character  of  his 
tenement.  I  may  also  remark  that  his 
abode  was  in  the  south-west  country, 
and  that,  to  the  best  of  my  recollection, 
royal  manors,  and  consequently  tenants 
in  ancient  demesnes,  abound  in  Wilts 
and  Somerset.  The  description  of  his 
house  would  lead  to  the  idea  that  he 
dwelt  in  the  hall  of  the  demesne.  He 
was  of  the  same  freeledge  (p.  564)  as 
his  two  neighbours  ;  but  it  was  after 
wards  (p.  593),  that  they  were  made 


JOHN    DE    KEEUE.  557 

[The  First  Part.] 

[How  John  at  first  avoids  the  King,  and  then  takes  him  home.] 

UOD  :  through  thy  might  and  thy  mercy,  God  bless  ail 

all  that  loueth  game  and  glee,  merriment! 

their  soules  to  heauen  bringe  ! 
4     best  is  mirth  of  all  solace  ; 

therfore  I  hope  itt  betokens  grace, 

of  mirth  who  hath  likinge. 


as  I  heard  tell  this  other  yeere,  A  Lanca 

shire  clerk 
a  clarke  came  out  of  Lancashire  : 


a  rolle  l  he  had  reading,  this  story 

a  bourde  2  written  therein  he  ffound,3 
thai  some  time  fiell  in  England,4  of  Edward 

12         in  Edwards  dayes  our  King. 

by  East,  west,  north,  and  Southe, 
all  this  realme  well  run  5  hee  cow  the,6 
castle,  tower,  and  towne. 


freemen.     I  shall  be  very  glad  if  what  I  want  it  known  what  a  capital  bargain 

have  written  should  seem  to  throw  light  he  had  made,  lest  the  price  paid  by  him 

upon  the  condition  of  John  de  Keeve.  for  his   office   should  be  raised."     But 

And  I  remain,  there  is  nothing  whatever  in  the  ballad 

Yours  very  faithfully,  to    justify    this    interpretation    of    the 

"W.  H.  HALE.  Keeve' s  fear.     Nor  are  we  prepared  to 

Mr.  Toulmin  Smith,  in  a  communica-  f^iesce  in  the  confusion  of  the  terms 

tion  made  to  the  Editors,  is  of  opinion  bondman     and  «  bondsman.  — H. 


that  the  Keeve  "  was  the  King's  collector 
of  local  dues — in  other  words  the  Farmer 
of  the  taxes.  He  was  in  bond  to  the 
King  (as  all  collectors  still  are)  to  remit 
truly,  and  hence,  and  not  as  a  vassal, 
his  bondsman.  The  collector  would  only 


rolle.— P.     Qu.  MS.  rolde.— F. 

i.e.  Jest.     Junius. — P. 

fonde.— P. 

Englonde,  qu. — P. 

i.e.  run  over. — P. 

couthe,   could.     So,    '  he  ne  couth,' 


be  afraid  of  the  King  because  he  did  not       He  could  not      Gloss-  ad  G-  Doug.— P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


16     of  thai  name  were  Kings  3  ; 

Longshanks.  but  Edward  with  the  long  shankes  was  hee, 

a  Lord  of  great  renowne. 


One  day,  out 
hawking,the 
King  loses 
all  his 


as  the  ~King  rode  a  hunting  vpon  a  day, 

20     3  ffawcons  *  fflew  away  ; 

he  ffollowed  wonderons  ffast. 
the  rode  vpon  their  horsses  that  tyde, 
they  rode  forth  on  enery  side, 

24         the  country  they  out  cast ; 


followers 


28 


ffrom  morning  vntill  eueninge  late, 
many  menn  abroad  they  gate 

wandring  all  alone ; 
the  night  came  att  the  last ; 
there  was  no  man  that  wist 

what  way  the  King  was  gone, 


except  a 
Bishop  and. 
an  Earl. 


The  three 
lose  their 
way, 


32 


36 


saue  a  Bishopp  &  an  Erie  ffree 
that  was  allwayes  the  king  ffull  nye, 

&  thus  then  gaii  they  say : 
"  itt  is  a  ffolly,  by  St.  lohn, 
ffor  vs  thus  to  ryde  alone 

soe  many  a  wilsome  2  way ; 


and  the 
weather  is 
very  bad. 


40 


"  a  'K.ing  and  an  Erie  to  ryde  in  hast, 
a  bishopp  ffrom  his  coste  3  to  be  cast, 

ffor  hunting  sikerlye.4 
the  whether  happned  5  wonderous  ill, 
all  night  wee  may  ryde  vnskill,6 

nott  wotting  where  wee  bee." 


1  3  [of  his]  fawc1.      Qu. — P. 

2  wilsome,   wiJsum.     Desert,   solitary, 
wandering,  i.  e.  Wild :  (Scotch)  Gloss,  to 
Ramsay's  Evergreen,  q.d.wildsome.  Gloss, 
to  G.D.-P. 


3  province,  district.— F. 

4  surely,   certainly :    sicker,  sur,  cer 
tain.     Johns'?  —P. 

5  happneth,  query. — P. 

6  i.e.  unskill'd.— P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE.  559 

then  the  ~%Ling  began  to  say, 
44     "  good  Sir  Bishopp,  I  you  pray 

some  comfort,  if  you  may." 
as  they  stoode  talking  l  all  about,  They  see 

J  a  man 

they  were  ware  of  a  carle  2  stout : 
48         "  good  deene,  fFellow  !  "  can3  they  say. 

then  the  Erie  was  well  apayd  4  : 

"  you  be  welcome,  good  fiellow  !  "  hee  sayd, 

"  of  ffellowshipp  wee  pray  thee  !  " 

52     the  carle  ffull  hye  on  horsse  sate,5  on  horseback 

his  leggs  were  short  and  broad,6 
his  stirropps  were  of  tree  7  ; 

a  payre  of  shooes  were  8  stifle  &  store,9 
56     on  his  heele  a  rusty e  spurre,  riding  away 

thus  ffbrwards  rydeth  hee. 
the  Bishopp  rode  after  on  his  palfrey:  The  Bishop 

asks  him  to 

"  abyde,  good  ffellow,  I  thee  pray,  stop, 

60         and  take  vs  home  w^'th  thee  !  " 

The  carle  answered  him  thai  tyde,  [page  358] 

"  firom  me  thou  gett  oft  noe  other  guide,  but  the  man 

won't, 

I  sweare  by  sweete  St.  lohn  10  !  " 
64     then  said  the  Erie  ware  and  wise, 
"  thou  canst  litle  of  gentrise  u  ! 
say  not  soe  fibr  shame  !  " 

1  forte  were  stalking. — P.  6  [some   deal]    brade  or  braid — Lan- 

2  Carle   (ceorl.)     Vir  tenuioris  atque       casshire  Dialect. — P 

obscurae  sortis.  idem  ac  churl  &c.     Jun.  7  i.  e.     wood. — P.       treene,     wooden, 

—P.     The  shape  of  the  initial  c  in  the  p.  181,  1.  1. — F. 

MS.  begins  to  change  here  frequently.  8  Forte  The  shoes  he  ware  were  &c. 

It  is  made  like  an  I  instead  of  a  foreign-  — P. 

er's  c,  accented.     It  might  be  printed  C,  9    stotir,    sture,   great,    thick,    ingens 

but  that  the  old  form  of  the  C  is  retained,  crassus,  Jun.,  stiff,  strong,  robust.  Gloss. 

as  in  Curteouslye,  1.  121.— F.  ad  Gr.D.— P. 

3  can,  delend.— P.     can  is  did.— F.  10  Jame,  see  st.  22<?  [1.  132]— P. 

4  glad.  Icetus.     Jun. — P.  n  Genterice  is  still  in  use  in  Scotland, 

5  The  rhyme  requires  rode. — Dyce.  for    gentility,   honourable    birth.      See 

Q-loss.  to  Kamsay's  Evergreen. — P. 


560 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


he  has 
nothing  to 
do  with 
courtesy. 


the  carle  answered  the  Erie  vnto, 
68     "  with  gentlenesse  l  I  haue  nothing  to  doe, 
I  tell  thee  by  my  ffay." 

the  weather  was  cold  &  euen  roughe  2  ; 

the  Km<7  and  the  Erie  sate  and  loughe, 
72         the  Bishopp  did  him  soe  pray. 


The  King- 
and  Earl 


fceg  the  man 
to  stop, 


the  ~King  said,  "  soe  mote  I  thee  3  ! 
hee  is  a  carle,  whosoeuer  hee  be  I 

I  reade4  wee  ryde  him  neere." 
the  sayd  5  w^th  words  hend,6 
"  ryd  saftlye,  gentle  ffreind, 

&  bring  vs  to  some  harbor." 


but  he  still 
rides  on. 


The  King 
tells  them 


then  to  tarry  the  earle  was  lothe, 
80     but  rode  forth  as  he  was  wrothe, 

I  tell  you  sickerlye. 
the  king  sayd,  "  by  mary  bright, 
I  troe  7  wee  shall  ryde  all  this  night 
84         in  wast  vnskillffullye  g  ; 


to  pull  the 
man  down. 


The  Bishop 
asks  him  to 
stop. 


88 


"  I  ffeare  wee  shall  come  to  no  towne  ; 
ryde  to  the  carle  and  pull  him  downe 

hastilye  without  delay." 
the  Bishopp  said  soone  on  hye, 
"  abyde,  good  ffellow,  &  take  vs  with  thee  ! 

ffor  my  loue,  I  thee  pray." 


1  gentrise,  qu. — P. 

2  evemVzg  rough. — P.  pronounced  row. 

\>Q  Amyral  bende  ys  browes  rowe, 

&  clepede  is  consaile. 
Kyng  Sortybnmt  &  o)?re  ynowe 

ther  come  wy>-oute  fayle. 

Sir  Ferumbras,  MS.  Ashmole  33,  fol.  26. 
Thow  a  Sarsens  hed  ye  bere, 
How,  and  full  of  lowsy  here. 

Skelton,  Poems  against  Garnesche,  1. 124. 


Works,  ed.  Dyce,  vol.  i.  p.  123.— F. 

3  thee,  i.e.  thrive.     Lye. — P. 

4  i.e.  counsel:  reade  is  counsel,  con- 
silium.     Junius. — P. 

5  sayd  [to  him].— P. 

6  i.e.  kind,  hend,  hende,  i.  e.  feat,  fine, 
gentle,  forte,  q.d.   handy  or  handsome. 
Skinner,  ab  Itil.  henta,  i.  e.  decere.    Lye. 
MS.— P. 

7  trow,  confido,  opinor.     Lye. — P. 

8  without  reason.      0.  N.  skil,  reason. 
— F. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


561 


the  Erie  said,  "  by  god  in  heauen  ! 

92     oft  men  meete  att  vnsett  steuen  1  ; 

to  quite  thee  well  wee  may." 
the  carle1  sayd,  "  by  St.  lohn 
I  am  2  affraye  of  you  eche  one, 

96         I  tell  you  by  my  ffay  !  " 

the  carle  sayd,  "  by  Marye  bright, 
I  am  afrayd  of  you  this  night ! 

I  see  you  rowne  3  and  reason,4 
1 00     I  know  5  you  not  &  itt  were  day, 

I  troe  you  thinke  more  then  you  say, 

I  am  affrayd  of  treason. 

"  the  night  is  merke,6  I  may  not  see 
104     what  kind  of  men  that  you  bee. 

but  &  you  will  doe  one  thinge, 
swere  to  doe  me  not  7  desease,8 
then  wold  I  ffaine  you  please, 
108         if  I  cold,  with  any  thinge." 


The  Earl 
says  he'll 
pay  him  out 
some  day. 


The  man 
explains 
that  he  is 
afraid  of 
them. 


If  they'll 
swear  not  to 
hurt  him, 

he'll  help 
them. 


then  sayd  the  Erie  w^th  words  ffree, 

"  I  pray  you,  ffellow,  come  hither  to  mee, 

&  to  some  towne  vs  bringe  ; 
112     &  after,  if  wee  may  thee  kenn, 
amonge  Lords  and  gentlemen 

wee  shall  requite  9  thy  dealinge." 

"  of  lords,"  sayes  hee,  "  speake  no  more  10  ! 
116     with  them  I  haue  nothing  to  doe, 
nor  neuer  thinke  to  haue ; 


The  Earl 
says,  if  he 
will,  they'll 


reward  him 

among 

Lords. 


The  man 
says  he'll 


1  i.  e.  unexpectedly :    at   a   time  un- 
appointed.      Steven,    terapus    statutum. 
Jun.— P.     See  p.  386,  note  3,  above. — F. 

2  MS.  ann.— F. 

8  rowne,  i.e.  whisper. — P. 

4  t.  i.  talk,  as  in  Shakspere,  &c. — Dyce. 

4  forte  knew.— P. 

•  i.e.  dark.— P. 

7  no  disease. — P. 


8  prejudice,    to    make    uneasy.      see 
Johnson. — P. 

9  forte,  quite.— P. 

10  moe. — P.  Compare 
Aqueyntanse  of  lordschip  wyll  y  noght, 
For,  furste  or  laste,  dere  hit  woll  be 
bowght. — Proverbs  from  MS.  li.  iii., 
back  of  last  leaf.  Camb.  Univ.  Lib.,  in 
Beliq.  Antiq.,  vol.  i.  p.  205. — F. 


562 


JOHN    1>E    BEEUE. 


never crouch 
to  Lords. 


120 


ffor  I  had  rather  be  brought  in  bale, 
my  hood  or  thai  l  I  wold  vayle,2 
on  them  to  crouch  or  craue.3  " 


The  King 
asks  him 
who  he  is. 


The  King's 
bondman, 


124 


the  JLwig  sayd  Curteouslye, 
"  what  manner  of  man  aree  yee 

att  home  in  your  dwellinge  ?  " 
"  a  husbandman,  fibrssooth  I  am, 
&  the  Kings  bondman  4 ; 

thereof  I  haue  good  Likinge." 


tho'  he  never 
spoke  to  him. 


"  S^r,  when  spake  you  with  our  King  ?  " 
128     "in  ffaith,  neuer,  in  all  my  liuing  ! 
he  knoweth  not  my  name  ; 

&  I  haue  my  Capull  6  &  my  crofft  6 ; 

if  I  speake  not  w^th  the  ~K.ing  oft, 
132         I  care  not,  by  St.  lame  !  " 


1  or  that,  i.  e.  before  that. — P. 

2  vail,  to  let  fall ;  to  suffer,  to  descend, 
in  token  of  respect.     Fr.  avallcr  le  bonet. 
Johnson. — P. 

3  Was  John,  like  Chaucer's  Eeeve,  '  a 
sklendre    colericke  man'?     Among   the 
marks  of  persons  of  '  Chollericke  com 
plexion  '  are :  '  The  sixth  is,  they  be  stout 
stomacked,  that  is,  they  can  suffer  no 
injuries,  by  reason  of  the  heate  in  them. 
And  therefore  Avicen  sayth,  That  to  take 
every  thing  impatiently  signifieth  heate. 
The  seauenth  is,  they  be  liberall  to  those 
that  honour  them,' — as  John  says  in  lines 
169,  243,  he'll  give  the  wanderers  all  they 
want,  so  that  they  be  thankful : — '  The 
fourteenth  is,  he  is  wily,' — cp.  the  first  bad 
supper,  below ; — '  The  eleuenth  is,  he  is 
soone  angry,  through  his  hote  nature ' — 
as  the  King's  porter  experiences,  1.  731; — 
'  The  thirteenth  is,  he  is  bold,  for  bold- 
nesse  commeth  of  great  heat,  specially 
about  the  heart,' — cp.  1. 304; — John's  cow 
ardice  at  first,  1.  97,  was  but  pmdence, 
the  better  part  of  valour.     Also,  he  must 
have  had   a   beard.     '  The   ninth   is,   a 
Cholericke  person  is  hayry,  by  reason  of 


the  heate  that  openeth  the  pores,  and 
moueth  the  matter  of  hayres  to  the 
skinne.  And  therefore  it  is  a  common 
saying,  The  Cholericke  man  is  as  hayrie 
as  a  Goat!  On  the  other  hand  John  must 
have  had  a  cross  of  '  the  sanguine  person ' 
in  him,  for  '  Secondly,  the  Sanguine  per 
son  is  merry  and  jocond,  that  is  to  say, 
with  merry  words  he  moueth  other  to 
laugh,  or  else  he  is  glad  through  be 
nignity  of  the  sanguine  humour,  pro- 
uoking  a  man  togladnesse  andjocondity, 
through  cleare  and  perfect  spirits  in- 
gendred  of  bloud.  Thirdly,  he  gladly 
heareth  fables  and  merry  sports,  for  the 
same  cause.  .  Fifthly,  he  gladly  drinketh 
good  Wine.  Sixthly,  he  delighteth  to 
feede  on  good  meate,  by  reason  that  the 
sanguine  person  desireth  the  most  like  to 
his  complexion,  that  is,  good  Wines  and 
good  meates.'  Regimen  Sanitatis  Sa- 
lerni,  ed.  1634,  p.  169-71.— F. 

4  i.  e.  Vassall.— P. 

5  capuil,    i.  e.    Jceyfil,    Welch    for    a 
Horse.     Lye.— P. 

6  Croft  est  agellus  prope  domum  rus- 
ticum.    Lye. — P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


563 


136 


"  what  is  thy  name,  ffellow,  by  thy  leaue  ?  " 
"marry,"  quoth  hee,  "  lohn  de  Reeue  l ; 

I  care  not  who  itt  heare ; 
ffor  if  you  come  into  my  inne,2 
with  beeffe  &  bread  you  shall  beginn 

soone  att  your  supper  3  ;  [page  359] 


His  name  ia 
John  de 
Reeve ; 


he  can  feed 
them 


"  salt  Bacon  of  a  yeere  old, 
HO     ale  that  is  both  sower  &  cold,4 — 

I  vse  neither  braggatt  5  nor  beere,  — 

I  lett  you  witt  withouten  lett, 

I  dare  eate  noe  other  meate, 
144         I  sell  my  wheate  ech  yeere." 

"  why  doe  you,  lohn,  sell  yo^r  wheate?  " 
"  ffor  [I]  dare  6  not  eate  that  I  gett. 

therof  I  am  ffull  wrothe  ; 

148     ffor  I  loue  a  draught  of  good  drinke  as  well 
as  any  man  that  doth  itt  sell, 
&  alsoe  a  good  wheat  loffe. 


with  stale 
bacon  and 
sour  ale  : 

he  brews  no 
beer,  for 


he  pells  his 
wheat, 


lie  dare  not 
keep  it, 


though  he 
likes 

good  drink 
and  bread. 


"  ffor  he  that  ffirst 7  starueth  lohn  de  reeue, 
152     I  pray  to  god  hee  may  neuer  well  8  cheeue,9 
neither  on  water  nor  land, 

whether  itt  be10  Sherriffe  or  King 

that  makes  such  statuinge,11 
156         I  outcept 12  neuer  a  one  ! 


May  all  who 
starve  him 
come  to 
grief! 


1  Query,  John  the  Reeve,  i.e.  Bailiff. 
Jun.     See  St.  7,  Pl.  3.— P. 

2  inne,  Sax.    est  cubiculum,  caverna, 
diversorium  domus.     Inne,  a  house,  ha 
bitation.— P. 

3  suppere. — P. 

*  Non  sit  acetosa  cervisia,  sed  bene 
clara  .  .  .  This  text  declareth  fiue  things, 
by  which  one  may  know  good  Ale  and 
Beere.  The  first  is,  that  it  be  not  sower, 
for  that  hurteth  the  stomacke.  A  sower 
thing  (as  Avicen  saith  in  many  places) 
hurteth  the  sinewes.  And  the  stomacke 
is  a  member  full  of  sinewes,  especially 


about  the  brim  or  mouth.   Eegimen  Sani- 
tatis  Salerni,  ed.  1634,  p.  59.— F. 

5  Chauc.  Ifrakit,   Camb.   Br.  bragod. 
A  sweet  drink  made  of  honey  &  spices, 
used  in  Wales,  &c.     Urry's  Gloss. — P. 

6  I  dare,  Qu.— P. 

7  first,  delend,  Qu.— P. 

8  well,  delend,  Qu.— P. 

9  thrive,  qu. — P.     Fr.  chevir,  to  bring 
a  business  to  a  head,  get  well  through 
it;  from  chrf.—F. 

10  MS.  ber.— F.  »  statuing.— P. 

12  forte  except. — P.     An   odd  hybrid. 
Ouitake  is  the  older  word. — F. 


564 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


He  asks 
where  they 
live. 


160 


"  ffor  and  the  "Kings  penny  were  Layd  by  mine, 
I  durst  as  well  as  hee  drinke  the  1  wine 

till  all  my  good  2  were  gone, 
but  sithence  thai  wee  are  mett 3  soe  meete, 
tell  mee  where  is  you?  recreate,4 

you  seeme  good  laddes  eche  one." 


The  Earl 
says, 
In  the 
King's 
house. 

John  pro 
mises  to 
lodge  them  if 


the  Erie  answered  with  words  ffaire, 
164  "  in  the  kings  house  is  our  repayre,5 
if6  wee  bee  out  of  the  way." 

"  this  night,"  q-woth  lohn,  "  you  shall  not  spill ; 

such  harbour  I  shall  bring  you  till ; 
168  I  hett 7  itt  you  to-day. 


they  are 
thankful, 


but  if  they're 
saucy  he'll 
keep  'em  out, 


172 


"  soe  thai  yee  take  itt  thankeffullye 
in  gods  name  &  St.  lollye, 

I  aske  noe  other  pay  ; 
&  if  you  be  sturdy  &  stout, 
I  shall  garr  8  you  to  9  stand  without, 

ffor  ought  thai  you  can  say. 


with  the 
help  of  his 
two  neigh- 
boui  s, 


owned  by 
the  Bishop  of 
Durham 
and  the  Earl 
of  Glo'ster, 


"  for  I  haue  2  neighbors  won  10  by  mee 
176     of  the  same  ffreeledge  n  thai  am  I, 

of  old  band-shipp  12  are  wee  : 
the  Bishopp  of  Durham  this  towne  13  oweth, 
the  Erie  of  Gloster — who-soe  him  knoweth — 
180         Lord  of  the  other  is  hee. 


the,  delend.— P. 
goods,  qu. — P. 

One  stroke  too  many  in  the  MS. — F. 
?  MS.  retreate,  home. — F. 
repair,  resort,  abode,  the  act  of  be 
taking  oneself  any  whither.  Johnson. — P. 
?  but.— F. 

i.  e.  I  promise,  assure. — P. 
cause. — F. 
To,  delend.  Qu.— P. 

10  i.  e.  dwell.— P. 

11  frelege,  freedom,  power,  privilege:  a 
quo   forte   corrupt.      It  is   yet  used   in 


Sheffield.  Eay.  Gloss,  ad  G.  Doug,  who 
has  render'd  Cui  tanta  Deo  permlssa 
potestas,  Quhat  God  has  to  him  grantit, 
sic  frelege,  St.  9,  v.  97. — P.  A.-Sax. 
freolac  is  A  free  offering,  a  sacrifice :  but 
-lac  and  -ledge  have  the  meaning  of  state, 
condition. — F. 

12  a  band,  Vinculuw,  retinaculum,  liga- 
men,  nexus  ;  A.S.  banda. — P. 

13  Perhaps  Tone,  viz.  the   one  of  his 
Companions  was  vassal  to  the  Bishop, 
vid.  p.  66,  V.  251  [of  MS. ;  vol.  i.  p.  159, 
1.  466  of  text].— P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


565 


184 


"wist  my  neighbors  that  I  were  thratt,1 
I  vow  to  god  the  wold  not  lett 

ffor  to,  come  soone  to  mee  ; 
if  any  wrong  were  to  mee  done, 
wee  3  durst  ffight  a  whole  afternoone, 

I  tell  you  sikerlye." 


who'd  fight 
all  afternoon 
for  him. 


the  King  sayd,  "  lohn,  tell  vs  not  this  tale  ; 
188     wee  are  not  ordayned  ffor  battell,2 
our  weeds  are  wett  and  cold  ; 

heere  is  no  man  that  yee  shall  greeue. 

but  helpe  vs,  lohn,  by  jour  leaue, 
192         with  bright  a  ffeeare  3  and  bold." 


The  King 
says  their 
clothes  are 
wet, 


they  want  a 
good  fire. 


"  Ifaith,"  sayd  lohn,  "that  you  shall  want, 
ffor  ffuell  heere  is  wonderous  scant, 

as  I  heere  haue  yee  told. 

196     thou  getteth  noe  other  of  lohn  de  Reeue  ; 
ffor  the  kings  statutes,4  whilest  I  Hue, 

I  thinke  to  vse  and  hold. 


John  says  he 
can't  give 
them  that, 


as  he  is  a 
bondman. 


"  If  thou  find  in  my  house  payment  ffine,5 
200     or  in  my  kitchin  poultry  slaine, 

peraduenture  thou  wold  say 
that  lohn  Reeue  his  bond  hath  broken  : 
I  wold  not  that  such  words  weere  spoken 
204         in  the  kings  6  house  another  day, 


If  he  were  to 
feed  them 
well, 


1  A.-S.  fyreatian,  to  threaten,  disquiet, 
distress. — F. 

2  battayle.     Chauc.— P. 

3  with  a  bright  fire  &e. — P. 

4  ?  referring  to  William  the  Conqueror's 
law  that  fires  and  lights  were  to  be  put 
out  at  the  8  o'clock  curfew,  and  people 
go  to  bed.    The  evening  must  have  been 
far  advanced  when  John  spoke. — F. 

5  I  would  read  'If  thou  find  in  my 
house  Pain  de  main,'  fortasse  corrupte 
pro    pain  de  maine,   i.e.   white    bread. 


So  Chaucer, '  White  was  his  face  as  paine 
de  maine.'  Kime  of  Sir  Thopas.  Lye. 
— P.  '  Payman,  a  kind  of  cheese-cake.' 
Halliwell.  Pyment  or  Piment  was  both 
a  special  honeyed  and  spiced  wine, — see  a 
recipe  in  Halliwell, — and  also  the  general 
name  for  sweet  wines :  see  Henderson's 
Hist.,  p.  283,  and  Babees  Book,  &c.,  p. 
202.  If  '  payment '  is  used  here  for 
bread,  as  in  1.  428,  part  ii.  below,  then  I 
suppose  it  means  '  spiced  bread.' — F. 
•  To  th»  King  an :— P. 


566 


JOHN    DE    REETJE. 


it  might  get 
to  some 
officials' 
ears,  and 
injure  him. 


208 


"  ffor  itt  might  turne  me  to  great  greeffe 
such  proud  ladds  thai  beare  office 

wold  danger  a  pore  man  aye  ; 
&  or  I  wold  pray  thee  of  mercy  longe, 
yett  weere  I  better  2  to  lett  thee  gange 

in  twentye  twiine  devills  way.3  " 


John  takes 
the  King, 
Bishop,  and 
Earl  to  his 
hall. 


thus  the  rode  to  the  towne  : 
212     lohn  de  Reeue  lighted  downe 

beside  a  comlye  hall.4 
4  men  beliue  5  came  wight  6  ; 
they  hasted  them  ffoll  swyft 
216         when  they  heard  lohn  call ; 

the  served  him  honestly  and  able, 
And  [led  7  ]  his  horsse  to  the  stable, 
&  lett  noe  terme  misfall. 


[page  360] 


His  wife 
welcomes 


220     some  went  to  warne  their  dame 

that  Tohn  had  brought  guests  home, 
shee  came  to  welcome  them  tyte  { 
in  a  side  10  kirtle  of  greene,11 
224     her  head  was  dight  all  by-deene,12 
the  wiffe  was  of  noe  pryde  ; 


Her  hair  is 
white. 


228 


her  kerchers  were  all  of  silke, 
her  hayre  as  white  as  any  milke, 
loue-some  of  hue  13  and  hyde  ; 


1  Two  letters  are  marked  out  after  the 
<7.-F. 

2  Yt  were  better.— P. 

3  '  twenty  devil  way '  is  the  ordinary 
phrase. — F. 

4  Cp.    Chaucer's    description   of    the 
Eeeve's  'wonying   fair  upon   an   heth.' 
Prol.  Cant.  T.  1.  609.— F. 

5  belive,  instantly.     Lye. — P. 

6  wight,  swift,  nimble.     Johnson ;  also 
stout,  valiant,  clever,  active.     GlossT  ad 
G.D.— P. 

7  And  [led]  his  &c.— P. 


8  I  wow/d  read  thus  (St.  38) 
To  welcome  them,  that  tyde 

Shee  came  in  a  side  Kirtle  &c. — P. 

9  brot  [3]  guests  hame.     Qu.— P. 

10  all.  or,  that  tyde. — P.  tyte,  quickly. 
— F. 

11  i.  e.  long. — P.     A.-S.  sid,  wide. — F. 

12  bedene,     Scotch,      is,     immediately. 
Gloss?  to  Ramsays  Evergreen ;  a  Germ. 
bcdicnen  prsestare   officium.     Gloss,   ad 
G.D.— P.   Dutch  by  dien,  by  this.— F. 

13  ?  MS.  huid.— F.     hue,  Qu.  See  Egar 
&  Grime,  pa. — P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


567 


shee  was  thicke,  &  some  deal  broad, 
of  comlye  ffashyon  was  shee  made, 
both  belly,  backe,  and  side. 


She  is 
comely. 


232     then  lohn  called  his  men  all, 

sayes,  "  build  me  a  ffire  in  the  hall, 

&  giiie  their  Capulls  meate  ; 
lay  before  them  corne  and  hay  ; 
236     ffor  my  lone  rnbb  of  the  clay, 

ffor  they  beene  weary  and  wett ; 


John  orders 
a  fire  for  his 
guests,  and 
food  for 
their  horses. 


"  lay  vnder  them  straw  to  the  knee, 
ffor  courtyes  l  comonly  wold  be  lollye, 
240         and  haue  but  litle  to  spend." 


244 


then  hee  said,  "  by  St.  lohn, 
you  are  welcome  euery  one, 

if  you  take  itt  thankefullye  ! 
curtesye  I  learned  neu[e]r  none, 
but  after  mee,  ffellowes,  I  read  you  gone." 

till  a  chamber  they  went  all  3  ; 


John  bids 

them 

welcome, 


a  charcole  2  ffire  was  burning  bright, 
248     candles  on  chandlours  3  light, 

Eche  ffreake  4  might  other  see. 
"  where  are  jour  sords  5  ?  "  q^oth  lohn  de 

Reeue. 

the  Erie  said,  "  Sir,  by  your  leaue, 
252         wee  weare  none,  pardye." 


and  shows 
them  into  a 
room 

with  a  fire 
and  candles. 


1  courtyers. — P. 

2  Charcoal   fires  were  used  to  avoid 
the  smoke    from  wood  or  coal   getting 
into    men's    eyes,    as    there    were    no 
chimneys.     See  Ladye  Btssiye,  vol.  iii., 


and  cp.  Kinge  and  Miller,  p.  150,  1.  40, 
above. — F. 

3  chandlours.  Fr.  chandelier,  a  Candle 
stick.— P. 

4  freke,  man.    Jun. — P. 

5  swords.— P. 


568 


JOHN    DE    BEEUE. 


John  asks 
the  Earl 
who  the 
long-legged 
fellow  is. 


"The 

Queen's  head 
Falconer." 


256 


then  lolin  rowned  l  with  the  Erie  soe  ffree  : 
"  what  long  ffellow  is  yonder,"  quoih  hee, 

"  thai  is  2  soe  long  of  lim  and  lyre  3  ?  " 
the  Erie  answered  with  words  small, 
"  yonder  is  Peeres  pay-ffor-all, 

the  Queenes  Cheefe  ffawconer.4  " 


"  If  I  had 
his  gay  hood, 


I'd  keep  no 

man's 

hawks. 


"  ah,  ah !  "  q^oth  lohn,  "ffor  gods  good, 

260     where  gott  hee  that  gay  hood, 

glitering  as  gold  itt  were  ? 
&  I  were  as  proud  as  hee  is  like, 
there  is  no  man  in  England  ryke  5 

264         shold  garr  me  keepe  his  gleads  6  one  yeere. 


But  who's 
that 
next  the 
Falconer  ?  " 


"  That's 
a  poor 
Chaplain, 


268 


"  I  pray  you,  sir,  ffor  gods  werke, 
who  is  yond  in  yonder  serke  7 

that  rydeth  8  Peeres  soe  nye  ?  " 
the  Erie  answered  him  againe, 
"  yonder  is  a  pore  chaplaine, 

long  aduanced  or  hee  bee  ; 


and  I  am  a 

Sumpter- 

man." 


"Gay 

fellows,  and 
penniless 
too,  I 
suppose ! " 


"  &  I  my  selfe  am  a  sumpter  man,9 
272     other  craft  keepe  I  none, 

I  say  you  withouten  Misse." 

"you  are  ffresh  ffellowes  in  yo^r  appay,10 

lolly  letters  ]  l  in  JOUT  array, 
276         proud  ladds,  &  I  trow  penyles." 


1  whispered. — F. 

2  that  is,  delend.— P. 

3  lim,  i.e.  limb:  lyre,  i.e.  flesh,  quic- 
qviid  carnosum  &  nervosum  in  homine. 
Lye.      Also  Lire,  is  complexion  or  air  of 
the  face.     Gloss,  ad  GK  D. — P.     "  Lyke 
the  quhyte  lyllie  wes  her  lyre"     Lynde- 
say's  Hist,  of  Squyer  Meldrum. — F. 

4  fawconere. — P. 

5  ryke,  A.-Sax.  rice regnum,  imperiuni. 
—P. 

6  gleads,  i.e.  Kites. — P. 


7  serJce,    Indusium,   a    shirt   or    such 
garment.     Jun. — P. 

8  ?  standeth.— F. 

9  forte  mon. — P. 

10  ?  content,  self-satisfaction.— F. 

11  To  jet,  inter  alia,  signifies  to  strut, 
to  agitate  the  body  by  a  proud  gait.     So 
the  Turky-Cock   is    said   to  jett,  when 
he    bridles    &c.       See    Johnson,    from 
Shakesp.   12l.h  Night.     Jetters   then  are 
strutters  &c.      See  pag.   237   [of  MS. ; 
p.  155,  1.  178  of  text,  above].— P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


569 


the  King  said,  "  soe  mote  I  thee, 
there  is  not  a  penny  amongst l  vs  3 

to  buy  vs  bread  and  mesh." 

280     "  ah,  ha  !  "  quoth  lohn,  '<'  there  is  2  small  charge ; 
280*  ffor  courtyes  3  comonlye  are  att  large, 
if  they  goe  neuer  soe  ffresh. 

"  I  goe  girt  in  a  russett  gowne, 
my  hood  is  of  homemade  browne, 
284         I  weare  neither  burnett  4  nor  greene, 
&  yett  I  troe  I  haue  in  store 
a  10001;1  and  some  deale  more, 

ffor  all  yee  are  prouder  and  ffine  ; 


"We  haven't 
a  penny  to 
pay  for  our 
food,"  says 
the  King. 

"Ah, 
courtiers 
generally 
live  on  other 
people ; 


but  though 
I  wear 

russet, 


I've  lOOOf.  in 
store. 


"  therfore  I  say,  as  mote  I  thee,5 
a  bondman  itt  is  good  6  [to]  bee,7 

&  come  of  carles  kinne  ; 
ffor  and  I  bee  in  tauerne  8  sett, 
to  drinke  as  good  wine  I  will  not  Lett, 

as  London  9  Edward  or  his  Queene." 


It's  well  to 
be  a  bond 
man, 


for  I  drink 
as  pood  wine 
as  the  King." 


the  Erie  sayd,  "  by  gods  might, 
lohn,  thou  art  a  comly  knight, 
296          and  sturdy  in  euerye  ffray." 

"  a  knight !  "  qwoth  lohn,  "  doe  away,  ffor  shame  ! 
I  am  the  King's  bondman. 

Such  wast  words  doe  away  !  [page  36i] 

300     "  I  know  you  not  in  your  estate  ; 
I  am  misnurtured,  well  I  wott 10  ; 
I  will  not  therto  say  nay. 


"  You're  a 
comely 
knight, 
John." 


Knight  t 


1  annongst  in  the  MS. — F. 

2  fortt  that  is.— P. 
8  courtyers. — P. 

4  burnet,  a  kind  of  colour,  whether 
liat  of  the  Pimpernel,  wfo'ch  is  called 
Surnet,  or  a  dark  brown  (French  bru- 
ette)  stuff  worn  by  Persons  of  quality. 
rlossT  ad  G.  Doug.— P. 

VOL.  II.  P  P 


8  St.  49,  as  mote  I  thee.     Thee,— to 
thrive.    Vid.  Jim.  &  Lye. — P. 

6  forte  "  as  good."— P. 

7  bee,  or  to  bee.    Qu.— P. 

8  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 

9  forte  delend.— P. 

10  forte  wate  ;    Gr.  Doug!    wete,   weet. 
Chauc.— P. 


570 


JOHN    DE    REEDE. 


But  if  any 
one 
wrongs  me 

I'll  fight 
him." 


«  Have  you 
travelled 
beyond  sea, 
John?" 
"Not  I! 


But  I  can 
hold  my  own 
on  the  road 
at  home, 

and  have  got 
into  trouble 
by  it." 


"Have  you 
any  armour 
or  weapons, 
John?" 


"None  but 
a  two- 
pronged 
pitchfork, 


a  rusty 
sword, 

and  a  broad 
knife, 


tho'  perhaps 
I  can  fight 
as  well  as 
you. 


but  if  any  sucli  doe  me  wrong,1 
304     I  will  ffight  w^th  him  hand  to  hand,2 
when  I  am  cladd  in  mine3  array." 

the  Bishopp  sayd,  "  you  seeme  sturdye  : 
travelled  you  neuer  beyond  the  sea  ?  " 
308         Ihon  sayd  sharplye  "  nay  ! 

I  know  none  such  strange  guise, 
but  att  home  on  my  4  owne  wise 
I  dare  hold  the  hye  way  ; 

312     "  &  thai  hath  done  John  Reeue  scath, 
fibr  I  haue  made  such  as  you  wrath 
w^th  choppes  and  chances  5  yare." 
"  John  de  Reeue,6  "  sayd  our  King, 
316     "  hast  thou  any  armouringe, 
or  any  weapon  to  weare  ?  " 

"  I  vow,  S^r,  to  god,"  sayd  lohn  thoe,7 
"  but  a  pikefforke  w^th  graines  2  — 
320         my  ffather  vsed  neuer  other  8  speare  : 
a  rusty  sword  that  well  will  byte, 
&  a  handffull,  a  thyttille  9  syde 
that  10sharplye  will  stare,11 


324     "  an  acton  l2  &  a  habargyon  a  ffoote  side  ; 
&  yett  peraduenture  I  durst  abyde  13 

as  well  as  thou,  Peeres,  ffor  all  thy  painted  geere." 


1  forte  wrang.    Dialect,  boreal. — P. 

2  forte  bond  to  bond.— P. 

3  ?  mime  in  the  MS.— F. 

4  forte  in  my. — P. 

6  Changes,  Qu.  yare,  ready,   dextrous, 
ready.  — P. 

6  John  the  Keeve.— P. 

7  thoe,  i.e.  then. — P. 

8  had  no  other.     Qu. — P. 

9  thuitel,  a  knife.    Halliwell.    A.-Sax. 
\>witan,    to    cut   off. — F.     thy  till,   some 
weapon,  perhaps    a  Dagger,  so   named 
from   its   being  worn   upon   the   thigh, 
thigh-till,   syde  is  long;  perhaps  the  verse 
should,  be  read  "  And  a  thytill  a  handful 


syde,"  i.e.  a  handful  long :  so  a  foot  side, 
is  a  foot  long.  Vid.  Stan.  26,  Pe  3?  —P. 
Syde  is  also  broad,  wide. — F. 

10  will  full  sharplye  share. — P. 

11  share.— P. 

12  Acton,  Fr[ench]  Hocqueton,   sagum 
militare:    a   kind   of  armour   made   of 
Taffity   or    leather,  quilted    thick,   and 
stuck  full  of  thread,  fringe,  &c.  reaching 
from  the  neck  to  the  knee,  worn  tinder 
the  Habergeon,  to  save  the  body  from 
Bruises  &c.  Skene's  exposition  of  difficil 
words  contain'd  in  the  4  bulks  of  Eegiam 
Magestatem,  1641  Q1.0— ubi  plura.— P. 

13  stand  a  charge,  fight ;  last  out. — F. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


q?*oth  lohn,  "  I  reede  wee  goe  to  the  hall, 
328     wee  3  fiellowes  ;  &  peeres  pay=for=all 
the  proudest  before  shall  fare." 


571 


But  let's  go 
to  supper." 


thither  they  raked  l  anon-wright  2  : 
a  charcole  flyer  burning  bright 
332         with  manye  a  strang  3  brand. 

the  hall  was  large  &  some  deale  wyde, 
there  bords  were  4  couered  on  euerye  syde, 
there  mirth  was  comanded.5 


They  go  to 
the  Hall, 
which  has  a 
fire  iu  it, 


and  tables 
laid. 


336     then  the  good  wifie  sayd  with  a  seemlye  checre, 
"  yo«r  supper  is  readye  there." 

"  yett  watter,6  "  qwoth  lohn,  "letts  see." 
by  then  came  John's  neighbors  2, 
340     hobkin  7  long  and  hob  alsoe  : 
the  ffirst  ffitt  here  ffind  wee. 


John's 
neighbours, 
Hobkin  and 
Hodgkin, 
come  in. 


went. — F. 

right.— P. 

strong. — P. 

werer  in  the  MS. — F. 

forte,  at  command. — P. 

This  was  for  washing  hands. 


See 


Babces  Book,  p.  5,  1.  129,  &c. 

Whenne  that  ye  se  youre  lorde  to  mete 

shalle  goo, 
Be  redy  to  fecche  him  water  sone. — F. 

7  Hodgkin,  vid.  infra.— P. 


p  v  2 


572 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


John 
arranges  his 


the  King  at 
top,  the 


Bishop  next 


his  wife,       2:1  parte. 


the  Earl 
near  the 
King, 


[The  Second  Part.] 

[How  John  feasts  the  King,  and  dances  with  him.] 

lohn  sayd,  "  for  want  of  a  mar  shall,  I  will  take 

the  wand : l 

Peeres  ffauconer  before  shall  gange  ; 
344  begin  the  dish 2  shall  hee. 

goe  to  the  bench,  thou  proud  chaplaine, 
my  wiffe  shall  sitt  thee  againe  ; 

thy  meate-fellow  3  shall  shee  bee." 
348          he  sett  the  Erie  against  the  King ; 
they  were  ffaine  att  his  bidding, 
thus  lohn  marshalled  his  meanye.4 


his  prettiest 

daughter 

next  the 

King, 

the  other  by 

the  Earl ; 


and  says 
that  if 


the  King  360 

married  one, 


352 


356 


Then  lohn  sperred  5  where  his  daughters  were  : 
"  the  ffairer  shall  sitt  by  the  ffawconere  ; 

he  is  the  best  ffarrand  6  man : 
the  other  shall  the  Sompter  man  haue." 
the  Erie  sayd,  "  soe  god  me  saue  ! 

of  curtesye,  lohn,  thou  can.7  " 

"If  my  selfe,"  q^oth  lohn,  "be  bound,8 
yett  my  daughters  beene  well  ffarrand, 

I  tell  you  sickerlye. 

Peeres,  &  thou  had  wedded  lohn  daughter  reeue, 
there  were  no  man  thai  durst  thee  greeue 

neither  ffor  gold  nor  ffee. 


1  John  said  as  marshal  I'll  take  the 
wand   &c.— P.     Compare    The  BoJce  of 
Curtasye,  SloaneMS.  1486,  ed.  Halliwell, 
Percy  Soc.,  ed.  Furnivall  in  Babecs  Book 
&c.  E.  E.  Text  Soc.  1868, 
Fowre  mew  )?erben  J?at  3erdis  schalle  bere, 
Porter,  marshal^,  stuarde,  vsshere ; 
The  porter  schalle  haue  J>e  lengest  wande, 
The  marshalle  a  schorter  schalle  haue  in 

hande. 

1.  352-6 ;  Babees  Bort,  $c.  p.  309. 
In  halle,  marshalle  alle  men  schalle  sett 


After  here  degre,  wzt^-outen  lett. 

1.  403-4.— F. 

2  deese,  dais.— F. 

3  i.e.  Mess-mate. — P. 

4  familia,  multitude.     Lye. — P. 

5  i.e.  enquired. — P. 

6  farrand,  perhaps  the  same  as  far- 
rantly)  a  word  in  Staffordshire  signifying 
sufficient,  handsome,  proper  &c.     T.P. 
farand,  farrant,   beseeming,   becoming, 
courteous,    handsome.      Gloss,    to     GK 
Doug8.  —P.  7  knowest.— F. 

8  bcnde,  or  bande. — P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE.  573 

"  Sompter  man,  &  thou  tlie  other  had,1  and  the  Earl 

the  other, 

364     in  good  ffaith  then  thou  were  made  they'd  be 

made  men. 
ffor  euer  in  this  cuntrye  ; 

then,  Peeres,2  thou  might  3  beare  the  prize. 

vett  I  wold  this  chaplaine  had  a  benefize,  And  as  for 

J  the  Bishop, 

368         as  mote  1 4  thariue  5  or  three  G  ! 

"  in  this  towne  a  kirke  there  is  ;  if  he,  John, 

&  I  were  king,  itt  shold  be  his,  he'd  give  ' 

him  their 

he  shold  haue  itt  of  mee  ;  parish 

church. 

372     yett  will  I  helpe  as  well  as  I  may." 

the  King,  the  Erie,  the  Bishopp,  can  say,  They  all  3 

"  lohn,  &  wee  liue  wee  shall  quitte  thee."  reward  him. 

when  his  daughters  were  come  to  dease,7 
376     "  sitt  ffarther,"  quotla.  lohn  w/thouten  Leaze,8 

"  ffor  there  shalbe  no  more.9  [page  302  ] 

these  strange  ffellowes  I  doe  not  ken ; 

peraduenture  they  may  be  some  10  gentlemen  ; 
380         therfore  I  and  my  neighbors  towe, 

"  att  side  end  bord  wee  n  will  bee,  John  and  his 

two  neigh- 
Out  of  the  gentles  company e  12  :  bonrssitat 
J                                                            a  side  table. 

thinke  yee  not  best  soe  ? 

384     ffor  itt  was  neuer  the  Law  of  England 13 
to  sett  gentles  blood  with  bound  H  ; 
therfore  to  supper  will  wee  goe.15  " 

1  yee — had,  Qu. — P.  (Lat.  hospitium)  is  taken  for  friendship, 

2  Tho'  Peeres,  &c. — P.  alliance,  or  [cov]enant — P. 

8  mought,  mote. — P.  8  Lese,   Lying,  falsehood,    treachery. 

4  so  mote  I. — P.  Urry,  Gloss,  to  Chaucer. — P. 

5  Qu.  MS.   There  is  one  stroke  too  few  9  moe. — P. 

for  thariue.     "  Thrive  or  thee  "  is  the  10  some  delend. — P. 

phrase  intended. — F.  M  At  side  bcrd  end  wee  &c.  Vid.  St. 

8  all  three,  Qu. — P.  15.  At  siden  borde  we  &c.  So  with- 

7  Deis,  erat  altior  &  eminentior  mensa  outen  for  without.  Shenstone. — P. 

in  aula.  The  high  table.     See  Jun.   Deis,  12  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 

desk,  bench,  seat,  table.     Per  metonym.  13  Englonde. — P. 

adj.,  a  feast,  banquet,  or  entertainment  H  bonde. — P. 

Et  per  al.  meton.  to  set  at  deis  with  one  1S  wee'll  go. — P. 


574 


JOHN    DE   REEUE. 


The  supper 
is  beau 
bread, 
salt  bacon, 

broth, 
lean  beef, 
sour  ale. 


The  King 
doesn't  like 
it. 

John  says 


he'll  give 
him.  no 
better, 
unless  they 
all  swear 


not  to  tell 
the  King. 


The  King 
vows  he'll 
never  tell 
him, 


by  then  came  in  beane  bread,1 

388     salt  Bacon  rusted  and  redd, 

&  brewice  2  in  a  blacke  dish, 
leane  salt  beefe  of  a  yeere  old, 
ale  thai  was  both  sower  &  cold : 

392         this  was  the  ffirst  service : 

eche  one  had  of  that  ylke  3  a  messe. 

the  king  sayd,  "  soe  haue  I  blisse, 
such  service  nerest4  I  see." 
396     q^oth  lohn,  "  thou  gettest  noe  other  of  mee 

att  this  time  but  this."  5 

"  yes,  good  fellow,"  the  'K.ing  gan  say, 
"  take  this  service  here  6  away, 
400         &  better  bread  vs  bringe  ; 
&  gett  vs  some  better  drinke ; 
we  shall  thee  requite,  as  wee  thinke, 
without  any  letting." 

404     qwoth  lohn,  "  beshrew  the  morsell  of  bread 
this  night  thai  shall  come  in  yo^r  head 

but  thou  sweare  me  one  thinge ! 
swere  to  me  by  booke  and  bell 
408     thai  thou  shalt  neuer  lohn  Reeue  bettell 
vnto  Edward  our  kinge." 

q^oth  the  king,  "  to  thee  my  truth  I  plight, 
he  shall  nott  witt  our  service  7 
412         no  more  then  he  doth  no  we, 
neuer  while  wee  3  liue  in  land." 
"  therto,"  q^oth  lohn,  "  hold  vp  thy  hand, 
&  then  I  will  thee  troe." 


1  Compare  the  loaves  of  beans  and  8  ilk,  ipse  that  ilk,  idem  that  same. 


bran    baked    for  his   children    by   the       Lye. — P. 


Ploughman.     Vision,   p.  89,  1.  270  ed. 
Skeat.— F. 

2  Brewice,  i.e.  Broth,  Pottage.  Tun. — 
P.  The  ice  stands  over  ish  marked  out. 
— F. 


4  never,  or  ne'er. — P. 


5  Fort6  other  [Meate  or  other  Service] 
QP  John,  at  this  Time,  but  this 
Thou  gettest  none  of  me. — P. 

8  MS.  herer.— F. 

7  our  service  witt.     Qu. — P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE.  575 

416     "  loe,"  qwoth  tlie  king,  "  my  hand  is  heere  !  " 

"  soe  is  mine  !  "  q-woth  the  Erie  with  a  merry  cheere,   Jfjg  |^ay 

"  thereto  I  giue  god  a  vowe." 

"  haue  heere  my  hand  !  "  the  Bishopp  sayd.  and  Bishop. 

420     "marry,"  qwoth   lohn,  "thou   may  hold  thee  well 

apayd, 
ffor  itt  is  ffor  thy  power. ] 

"  take  this  away,  thou  hobkin  2  loner,  John  orders 

the  bad 

&  let  vs  sitt  out  of  the  throng  supper 

424         att  a  side  bords  end  ; 

these  strange  ffellowes  thinke  vncouthlye 
this  night  att  our  3  Cookerye, 
such  as  god  hath  vs  sent.4" 

428     by  them  5  came  in  the  payment  bread,  and  then  has 

,  7     ,  i      ,  1         i  •  j  -i-ii  *n  tbo  #ood : 

wine  that  was  both  white  and  redd  spiced  bread, 

.,  and  good 

in  siluer  cupp[e]s  cleare.  wine, 

"a   ha!"    quoth  lohn,6  "our    supper  begins   with 

drinke  ! 

432     tasste  itt,  ladds  !  &  looke  how  7  yee  thinke,8  He  teiis 

ffor  my  loue,  and  make  good  cheere  !  taste  his 

wine. 

"  of  meate  &  drinke  you  shall  haue  good  ffare  ;  There  is 

&  as  ffor  good  wine,  wee  will  not  spare,  ofTt, 
436         I  goe  9  you  to  vnderstand.10 

ffor  euerye  yeere,  I  tell  thee  thoe,11 

I  will  haue  a  tunn  or  towe  and  the  best 

of  the  best  that  may  be  ffound.12  got.  ^ 

440     "yee  shall  see  3  Churles  heere 

drinke  the  wine  with  a  merry  cheere ; 
I  pray  you  doe  you  soe  ; 


Forte, 


John  yee  may  be  well 


For  it  is  in  my  power  now.  —  P. 
Power  is  for  Prowe,  profit,  advantage 
Fr.  vrou.  —  F. 


?MS.  then.— F. 

Quoth  John,  &c.  (a  ha  defend). — P. 
Fortt  tell  how  &c.— P. 
Qu.  slink,  perhaps  thinke. — P. 
Qu.  give. — P. 


2  Hodgkin,  vid.  Infra.— P.  '«  understonde.— P. 

3  of  our  &c. — P.  u  thee  now  or  true. — P. 

4  God  doth  us  send.— P.  12  fonde.— P. 


576 


JOHN    DE    EEEUE. 


They'll  all 
sup,  and 
then  dance. 


The  Earl 
says  the 
King 

can  drink  no 
better  wine. 


Next  come 
the  boar's 
head, 

capons, 
venison, 


&  when  our  supper  is  all  doone, 
444     you  and  wee  will  dance  soone ; 
letts  see  who  best  can  doe." 

the  Erie  sayd,  "  by  Marry  bright, 
wheresoeuer  the  King  lyeth  this  night, 
448         he  drinketh  no  better  wine 

then  thou  selfe1  does  att  this  tyde." 
"infaith,"  q^oth  lohn,  "  soe  had  leeuer2  I  did 
then  Hue  ay  in  woe  &  payne.3 


452     "  If  I  be  come  of  Carles  kinne, 

part  of  the  good  thai  I  may  winne, 

some  therof  shall  be  mine, 
he  thai  neuer  spendeth  but  alway  spareth, 
456     comonlye  oft 4  the  worsse  he  ffareth ; 
others  will  broake  5  itt  ffine.6  " 

by  then  came  in  red.  wine  &  ale, 
the  bores  head  7  into  the  hall, 
460         then  sheild  8  w^th  sauces  seere  9  ; 
Capons  both  baked  &  rested,10 
woodcockes,  venison,  without  bost, 
&  dish  meeate  u  dight  ffull  deere. 


[page  3 


•63] 


swans,  '  464     swannes  they  had  piping  hott, 

curlews,  Coneys,  curleys,12  well  I  wott, 

herons,  &c.  the  crane,  the  hearne  13  in  ffere,14 


'  thyself.— P. 

2  i.  e.  rather :  I  leever,  legend. — P. 

pine  or  pyne.     Chauc.  idem. — P. 

oft,  defend.— P. 

to  brouke,  broke,  to  brook,  bear ; 
To  use,  enjoy.  Urry  in  Chauc. — P. 

fine  for  finely. — P. 

See  the  Carol,  The  boris  hedefurst, 
in  Mrs.  Ormsby  Gore's  Porkington  MS. 
No.  10.  The  carol  is  printed  in  Eeliq. 
Antiq.  vol.  ii.,  Babees  Book  &c.  p.  397.— F. 

8  The  swerd  of  Bacon  is  call'd   the 
Shield  :  and  the  horny  Part  of  brawn  in 
some  places. — P. 

9  seere,  sere,  several ;   many ;  contract. 


from  sever,  or  several.    Gloss,  ad  G.  D. 
—P. 

10  roste.— P. 

11  sweet  dishes,  &c.     Russell  says  in 
his  BoJce  of  Nurture,  1.  513-14, 

Some  maner  cury  of  Cookes  crafft  sotelly 

y  haue  espied, 
how  >eire    dischmetes   ar  dressid   with 

hony  not  clary fied. — F. 

12  curlews.— P. 

13  heron.    See  Russell,  in  Babces  Book, 
p.  143-4.     Compare  this  feast  with  Rus 
sell's  Festfor  a  Franklen,  B.B.  p.  172-3. 
— F. 

14  i.e.  together,  along. — P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


577 


pigeons,  partrid[g]es,  with  spicerye, 
468     Elkes,1  fflomes,2  with  ffroterye.3 

lolin  bade  them  make  good  cheere. 

the  Erie  sayd,  "  sbe  mote  I  thee, 
lohn,  you  serue  vs  royallye  ! 
472         if  yee  had  dwelled  att  London,4 
if  king  Edward  where  here,5 
he  might  be  a-payd  6  with  this  supper,7 
such  ffreindshipp  wee  haue  ffound." 

476     "  Nay,"  sayd  lohn,  "  by  gods  grace, 
&  Edward  wher  in  8  this  place, 

hee  shold  not  touch  this  tonne, 
hee  wold  be  wrath  with  lohn,  I  hope  ; 
480     thereffore  I  beshrew9  the  soupe  10 

that  shall  come  in  his  mouth  n  !  " 

theratt  the  ULiny  laughed  &  made  good  cheere. 
the  Bishopp  sayd,  "  wee  fare  well  heere  !  " 
484         the  Erie  sayd  as  him  thought. 

they  spake  lattine  amongst  them  there12 : 
"infayth,"  qwoth  lohn,  "and  yee  greeue  mee, 
ffull  deere  itt  shalbe  bought. 

488     "  speake  English  euerye-eche  one,13 
or  else  sitt  still,  in  the  devills  name  ! 

such  talke  loue  I  naught.14 
Lattine  spoken  amongst  Lewd  15  men, 
492     therin  noe  reason  ffind  I  can ; 
ffor  ffalshood  itt  is  wrought. 


partridges, 
tarbs  &c. 


The  Earl 

says  it's 
a  royal 
feast ; 


the  King 
might  be 
pleased  with 
it. 


41  If  he  were 
here,  he 
shouldn't 
have  a 
scrap,"  Fays 
John. 


They  talk 
Latin 
together. 
John  tells 
them  to 


talk  English, 


1  '  ElJc,  a  wild  swan.   Northern.'    Hal- 
liwell.     ?  yelk,  some  dish  of  eggs. — F. 

2  ?  flauns,  a  kind  of  cheesecake. — F. 

8  fruterye,  fruit  collectively  taken, 
fruiterie  Fr.  Johnson. — P.  Fritters, 
I  have  no  doubt.  See  them  in  Eussell's 
Boke  of  Nurture  (p.  168-70  Babces  Book} 
and  many  other  Bills  of  Fare. — F. 

4  Forth  As  ye  at  London  won'd. — P. 

5  Edward's  self  were  heere. — P. 

6  to  appay,  to  satisfy,  to  content,  hence 


'  well  appaid '  is  pleased.     '  ill  appayd ' 
is  uneasy  (Fr.  appayer).     Johns. — P. 

7  suppere. — P. 

8  MS.  wherin. — F.     were  in.— P. 

9  beshrew,  verbuw  maleprecantis.  Jun. 
— P.  lo  sup,  soupe. — P. 

11  That  in  his  Mouth  sholdecome. — P. 

12  perhaps  "  three." — P. 

13  everiche  one. — P. 

14  not,  or  hold  I  naught. — P. 

15  Lewd,  i.e.  Laymen.      Johnson. — P. 


578 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


he  doesn't 
like  whisper 
ing, 


it's  traitors' 
work 


"rowfnjing,1  I  loue  itt2  neither  young  nor  old  ; 
therefore  yee  ought  not  to  bee  to  bold, 
496         neither  att  Meate  nor  meale. 

hee  was  fialse  that  rowning  began ; 
theerfore  I  say  to  you  certaine 
I  loue  itt  neuer  a  deale : 


and  not  to 
be  tolerated 
by  any 
courteous 
host. 

The  Earl 
promises  to 
leave  off. 


500     "  that  man  can  [nought]  of  curtesye 
thai  lets  att  his  meate  rowning  bee,3 

I  say,  soe  haue  I  seile.4  " 
the  Erie  sayd  right  againe, 
504     "  att  y<mr  bidding  wee  will  be  baine,5 
wee  thinke  you  say  right  weele." 


Then  sweets 
come  in, 


and  John 
proposes 
that  they 
shall  be 
merry 


by  this  came  vp  ffrom  the  kitchin 
sirrupps  6  on  plates  7  good  and  ffine, 
508         wrought  in  a  ffayre  array. 

"  Sirrah,8  "  sayth  lohn,  "  sithe  wee  are  mett, 
&  as  good  ffellowes  together  sett, 
lett  vs  be  blythe  to-day. 


and  he  and 
his  mates 
shall 


512     "  Hodgkin  long,  &  hob  of  the  Lath,9 
you  are  counted  good  ffellowes  both,10 
now  is  no  time  to  thrine  ]  1  ; 


1  rowning,  they  are  used  promiscously 
in  Chauc1:  — P. 

2  in,  qu. ;  or  loved  neither. — P. 

3  John  is  right  here.      Whispering  is 
strictly  forbidden  by  the  old  Books  of 
Courtesy,  &c. 

"Loke  >ou  rownde  not  in  no  mannys  ere." 

Babies  Book,  p.  20,  1.  54. 
Looke  that  ye  be  in  rihte  stable  sylence, 
Withe-oute  lowde  lauhtere  or  langelynge, 
Hovnynge,  lapynge  or  other  Insolence. 

ib.  p.  253, 1.  93-5. 
Bekenyng,  fynguryng,  now  j?ou  vse, 
And  pryue  rownyng  loke  thou  refuse. 
Boke  of  Curtasi/e,  1. 250,  Bab.  Book,  p.  306. 

4  sei-l,  Scotch,  i.e.  prosperity,    happi 
ness.     Gloss?   to  Kamsay's  Ever-green. 
a  Teut.  selig.  &c.,  beatus,  felix.      Gloss. 


ad  G.  D.— P. 

5  so  bane  in  G.  Doug,  is  ready.    JE.  3, 
v.  96,  Antiquam  exquirite  matrem :  '  to 
seik   zour   auld   moder  make  ze  bane.' 
perhaps  for  bowne,  metri  gratia.     Gloss, 
ad  G.  Doug.— P. 

6  Compare  Eussell,  1.  509,  (in  Babees 
Book  $c.)  speaking  of  cooks : 

Some  with  Sireppis  (Sawces),  Sewes  and 
soppes. — F. 

7  forte  platters. — P. 

8  Forte  Sirs.— P.     Sirrahs.— Dyce. 

9  Lathe.— P.  10  baith.— P. 
11  The  German  thranen,  to  run  over, 

weep,  is  the  only  word  I  can  suggest 
for  this,  though  it  could  hardly  become 
thrine.  A.-S.  \>ringan  is  to  throng,  crowd, 
press.  Trine,  to  hang.  Halliwell.— F. 


JOHN    DE    REEDE. 


579 


dance. 


John  stands 
up 


this  wine  is  new  come  out  of  ffrance  ; 
516     be  god  !  me  list  well  to  dance, 

therfore  take  my  hand  in  thine  ; 

"ffor  wee  will  ffor  our  guests  sake 
hop  and  dance,  &  Beuell  make." 
520         the  truth  ffor  to  know, 

vp  he  rose,  &  dranke  the  wine  : 
"  wee  must  haue  powder  of  ginger  therein," 
lohn  sayd,  as  I  troe. 

524     lohn  bade  them  stand  vp  all  about, 
"  &  yee  shall  see  the  carles  stout 

dance  about  the  bowle. 
Hob  of  the  lathe  l  &  Hodgkin  long, 
528     in  ffayth  you  dance  jour  mesures  wrong  ! 
methinkes  that  I  shold  know. 

"  yee  dance  neither  Gaily ard  2  nor  hawe,3 
Trace  4  nor  true  mesure,  as  I  trowe,5  [page  3G4] 

532         but  hopp  as  yee  were  woode." 

when  they  began  of  ffoote  to  ffayle, 
the  tumbled  top  ouer  tayle, 

&  Master  and  Master  they  yode. 

536     fforth  they  stepped  on  stones  store  6  ; 
Hob  of  the  lathe  lay  on  the  fflore, 

his  brow  brast  out  of  blood. 

"  ah,  ha  !  "  Q^oth  lohn,  "  thou  makes  good  game  !      Joim  laughs 
540     had  thou  not  ffalled,  wee  had  not  laught ; 
thou  gladds  vs  all,  by  the  rood." 


with  Hob 
and 

Hodgkin, 
and  they 
dance 


till  they 

tumble 

down. 


1  lathe  est  horreum ;  a  Corn-house,  a 
Grange.     Jun. — P. 

2  A  quick  and  lively  dance  introduced 
into  this  country  about  1541.    Halliwell. 
— F. 

3  Hay,  Qu.  Dance  the  Hay.— P.     A 
round  country  dance.     Halliwell. — F. 

4  Trasinge,   ap?    G.    Douglas,   is   ex- 
plain'd  in  ye  Gloss.,  '  stepping,  walking 
softly,'  from  the  Fr.  trace,  a  step ;  but  it 


is  join'd  with  dancing  in  ye    folio-wing 
Passage : 

The  harpis  &  gythornis  playis  attanis, 
Upstert  Troyanis,  &  syne  Italianis 
And  gan  do  doubil  brangillis  &  gambettis 
Dansis  &  roundis  trasing  mony  gatis. 

5  Forte,  as  I  say. — P. 

6  store,  stour,   sture,  ingens,  crassus. 
Lye.— P. 


580 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


and  pulls 
him  up. 


They  begin 
to  play  at 
kicks, 


John  hent l  vp  hobb  2  by  the  hand,3 
sayes,  "  methinkes  wee  dance  our  measures  wronge, 
544         by  him  thai  sitteth  in  throne." 
then  they  began  to  kicke  &  wince,4 
lohn  hitt  the  king  ouer  the  shinnes 
with  a  payre  of  new  clowted  shoone. 


and  the 
King  has  a 
merry  night. 


548     sith  'K.ing  Edward  was  mad  a  knight, 
had  he  neuer  soe  merry  a  night 

as  he  had  with  lohn  de  Reeue.5 
to  bed  the  busked  them  anon, 
552     their  liueryes  6  were  serued  them  vp  soone 
w^th  a  merry  cheere ; 


Next 
morning 


they  hear 
Mass, 

breakfast, 


promise 
John  a 
reward, 


&  thus  7  they  sleeped  till  morning  att  prine 
in  ffull  good  sheetes  of  Line. 
556         a  masse  9  he  garred  them  to  haue, 
&  after  they  dight  them  to  dine 
w^'th  boyled  capons  good  &  ffine. 

the  Duke  sayd,10  "  soe  god  me  sane, 
560     if  euer  wee  come  to  our  abone,11 

we  shall  thee  quitt  our  Barrison  12  ; 
thou  shalt  not  need  itt 13  to  craue." 


1  i.e.  held.    Lye.— P. 

2  The  first  b  is  made  over  a  p  in  the 
MS.— F. 

8  hond  or  wrang. — P. 

4  Winche,  to  kick.     Halliwell.— F. 

5  the  Keeve,  or  John  Keeve  there. — P. 
8  Allowances   of  meat  and  drink  &c. 

'  Lyueray  he  hase  of  mete  and  drynke.' 
Sake  of  Curtasye,  1.  371,  Babecs  Book, 
p.  310.  Bouge  of  Court  it  is  called  in 
Household  Ordinances,  t.  Edw.  IV". — F. 


7  there.— P. 

8  prime    sic    legerit.     Lye,     D.  forte 
morn?  prime,  or  morn  at  prime. — P. 

9  perhaps  Mess. — P.     Mass  was  heard 
by  all  in  the  morning. — F. 

10  The  Erie  said.— P. 

11  Fortasse'Wone. — P.    Abpfe  is  abode, 
dwelling  (Halliwell) ;  abone,  above. — F. 

12  Warrison  [gift,  reward]  see  P^    3T.d 
St.  40.— P. 

18  it  delend.— P. 


JOHN    DE    UKETJE. 


581 


[The  Third  Part.] 

[How  the  King  invites  John  to  court,  and  rewards  him.] 

the  king  tooke  leaue  att  man  &  mayde  l  ; 
564     John  sett  him  in  the  rode  way ; 
to  windsor  can  hee  2  ryde. 
Then  all  the  court  was  ffull  faine 
thai  the  king  was  comen  againe, 
568  &  thanked  chr[i]st  thai  tyde. 


parte 


572 


the  lerfawcons  were  taken  againe 

in  the  fforrest  of  windsor  without  laine,3 

the  Lords  did  soe  provyde, 
they  thanked  god  &  Sf  lollye. 
to  tell  the  Queene  of  their  harbor  4 

the  lords  had  ffull  great  pryde. 


and  take 
their  leave. 


King 

Edward  is 
welcomed  at 
Windsor. 


They  tell  the 
Queen  about 
John  de 
Iteeve, 


The  Queene  sayd,  "  Sir,  by  jour  leaue, 
576     I  pray  you  send  ffor  thai  Noble  Reeue, 

thai  I  may  see  him  with,  sight." 
the  Messenger  was  made  to  wend, 
&  bidd  lohn  Reeue  goe  to  the  King 
580         hastilye  with  all  his  might. 


and  she  asks 
the  King  to 
send  for  him. 


A  messenger 
tells  John  to 
eome  to  the 
King. 


584 


lohn  waxed  vnfaine  5  in  bone  &  blood, 
saith,  "  dame,  to  me  this  is  noe  good, 

my  truth  to  you  I  plight." 
"you  must  come  in  yowr  best  array." 
"  what  too,"  sayd  lohn,  "  Sir,  1  thee  pray  ?  " 

"  thou  must  be  made  a  Knight." 


He  is  put 
out  at  first, 


1  may. — Dyce. 

2  ganhe&c. — P.  Can  means  did. — F. 
8  MS.  laime.— F.   Vid.  Stanz.  45.— P. 


4  forte    harborye,    or    harberye. — P. 
lodging. — F. 

5  displeased,  literally  '  unglad.' — P. 


582 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


thinks  his 
late  guests 


have  got him 
into  a 
scrape ; 
"  but  never 
mind, 

wife,  fetch 
my  armour, 


pitchfork, 
and  sword." 


"a  knight,"  sayd  John,  "  by  Many  myld, 
588     I  know  right  well  I  am  beguiled 
with  the  guests  I  harbor d  late. 

to  debate  they  will  me  bring ; 

yett  cast l  I  mee  ffor  nothinge 
592         noe  sorrow  ffor  to  take  ; 

"  Allice,  ffeitch  mee  downe  my  side  Acton, 
my  round  pallett 2  to  my  crowne, 

is  made  of  Millayne  3  plate, 
596     a  pitch-fforke  and  a  sword.4  " 
shee  sayd  shee  was  affrayd  5 

this  deede  wold  make  debate. 


The 

scabbard 
is  torn. 


John  calls 
for  leather 
and  a  nail  to 
mend  it, 


600 


604 


608 


and  tries  to 

pull  the 

blade  out.  612 


Allice  ffeitched  downe  his  Acton  syde ; 
hee  tooke  itt  ffor  no  litle  pryde, 

yett  must  hee  itt  weare. 
the  Scaberd  was  rent  wz'thouten  doubt, 
a  large  handfull  the  bleade  6  hanged  out : 

lohn  the  REEUE  sayd  there, 

"gett  lether  &  a  nayle,"  lohn  can  say, 
"  lett  me  sow  itt  7  a  chape  to-day, 

Lest  men  scorne  my  geere.  [p^ge  365] 

Now,"  sayd  lohn,  "  will  I  see 
[w]hether  8  itt  will  out  lightlye 

or9  I  meane  itt  to  weare." 

lohn  pulled  ffast  att  the  blade  : 
(I  wold  hee  had  kist  my  arse  that  itt  made  ! ) 
he  cold  not  gett  itt  out. 


1  to  cast,  to  calculate,  to  reckon,  com 
pute.     Item,    to   contrive,   to   turn   the 
thoughts.     Johnson. — P. 

2  Pallat,   in  G-.   Doug8,    is  used   for 
caput.     Scot.  bor.  pallet  or  pallat  is  the 
crown  of  the  Head  or  Skull.     Gloss,  ad 
Gr.  Doug!      Hence  it  should  signify  here 
an  Helmet  or  Skull-cap — P. 

3  See  note  2,  vol.  i.  p.  68. — F. 


4  forte  sweard. — P. 

5  affear'd.— P. 

6  blade.— P. 

7  Forte  sow  in.     in,  qy. — P.     Chape, 
the  hook  of  a  scabbard  ;  the  metal  part 
at  the  top.     Halliwell. — F. 

8  whether. — P. 

9  or,  i.e.  before. — P. 


JOHN    DE    EEEUE. 


583 


Allice  held,  &  lohn  draughe,1 
either  att  other  ffast  loughe,2 
616         I  doe  yee  out  of  doubt. 

lohn  pulled  att'  the  scaberd  soe  hard, 
againe  a  post  he  ran  backward 

&  gaue  his  head  a  rowte.3 
620     his  wiffe  did  laughe  when  he  did  flail, 
&  soe  did  his  4  meaiiye  all 

thai  were  there  neere  about. 

lohn  sent  after  his  neighbors  both,5 
624     Hodgkine  long  &  hobb  of  the  lath.6 

they  were  beene  7  att  his  biddinge. 
3  pottles  of  wine  8  in  a  dishe 
they  supped  itt  9  all  off,  as  I  wis, 
628         all  there  att  their  partinge. 

lohn  sayd,  "  &  I  had  my  buckler,10 
theres  nothing  that  shold  me  dare, 

I  tell  you  all  in  ffere.11 

632     ffeitch  me  downe,"  qitoth  he,  "  my  gloues  ; 
they  came  but 12  on  my  13  hands  but  once 

this  22  14  yeere. 

"  fieitch  mee  my  Capull,"  sayd  hee  there. 
636     his  saddle  was  of  a  new  manner,15 
his  stirropps  were  of  a  tree.16 

"  dame,"  he  sayd,  "  ffeitch  me  wine  ; 

I  will  drinke  to  thee  17  once  againe, 
640         I  troe  I  shall  neuer  thee  see. 


]  I  is  wife 
holds,  he 
pulls, 


nnd  he  falls 
back  against 
a  post. 


His  wife  and 
men  laugh  at 
him. 


He  sends  for 
Hodgkiu 
aud  Hob, 


to  drink  and 
take  leave  of 
him. 


Then  he  calls 
for  his 


gloves, 


his  horse, 


and  more 
wine. 


1  drowghe,  Chaucf,  i.  e.  drew. — P. 

2  lough,      or    lowghe,   i.e.     laughed. 
Chaucr.  —P. 

3  Great     or    violent     stir.      Devon. 
Hall'.  — F. 

4  hiis  in  the  MS.— F. 

5  baith.-P. 

6  Lathe.— P. 

7  Qu.  bowne,  bane,  bayne,  Vid.  P\  2. 
St.  29  [t.i.  28  of  MS.,  1.  504  above].— P. 

8  MS.  wime. — F. 


9  itt,  delend,  censoo. — P. 

10  bucklere.— P. 

11  in    fere,    together,    intiro,    wholly. 
Gloss,  ad  G.D.— P. 

12  delend.    Qu. — P. 

13  came  upon  my. — P. 

1 '  two  &  twentye. — P. 

15  mannere. — P. 

16  of  tree.— P.     wood.— F. 

17  An  upright  stroke,  which  may  be  for 
1,  stands  between  thee  and  once. — F. 


584 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


He, 

Hodgkin, 
and  Hob 


drink  five 
gallons ; 


644 


"  Hodgkin  long,  &  hob  of  the  lathe, 
tarry  &  drinke  w^'th  me  bothe,1 

ffor  my  cares  are  ffast  commaimde.2  " 
they  dranke  5  gallons  verament : 
"  ffarwell  ffellowes  all  present, 

ffor  I  am  readye  to  gange  !  " 


and 

Hodgkin 
heaves  him 
on  to  his 


When  he 
gets  to 
Windsor 
Castle,  the 
porter  won't 
let  him  in, 


lohn  was  soe  combred  in  his  geere 
648     hee  cold  not  gett  vpon  his  mare 

till  hodgkinn  heaue  vp  3  behind. 

"  Now  ffarwell,  Sir,  by  the  roode  !  " 
to  neither  JLnighi  nor  Barron  good 
652         his  hatt  he  wold  not  vayle 

till 4  he  came  to  the  ~Kings  gate : 
the  Porter  wold  not  lett  him  in  theratt, 
nor  come  within  the  walle, 

656     till  a  Knighi  came  walking  out. 

they  sayd,  "  yonder  standeth  a  carle  stout 

in  a  rusticall  arraye." 
on  him  they  all  wondred  wright,6 
660     &  said  he  was  an  vnseemelye  wight, 
&  thus  to  him  they  6  gan  say  : 


and  the 
servants 
chaff  him. 


"  hayle,  ffellow  !  where  wast  thou  borne? 
thee  beseemeth  ffull  well  to  weare  a  home  ! 
664         where  had  thou  thai  ffaire  geere  ? 
I  troe  a  man  might  seeke  ffull  long, 
one  like  to  thee  ar  that  hee  ffound,7 
tho  he  sought  all  this  yeere." 


1  bathe  or  baith.— P. 

2  i.e.  are  coming  fast. 
ac  coming. — P. 

8  hove  up. — P. 
4  when.     Qu.— P, 


5  right.— P. 
comand,  idem  6  they  delend. — P. 

7  fonde.— P.     ?  ffong,  got  hold  of.- 
Dyce, 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 

668     lohn  bade  them  kisse  the  devills  arse ] : 
"ffor  you  my  geare  is  much  the  worsse  2  ! 

you  will  itt  not  amend, 
by  my  ffaith,  thai  can  I  lead ! 
672     vpon  3  the  head  I  shall  you  shread 
but  if  you  hence  wende  ! 

"  the  devill  him  speede  vpon  his  crowne 
thai  causeth  4  me  to  come  to  this  towne, 
676         whether  he  weare  lacke  or  lill ! 
what  shold  such  men  as  I  doe  heere 
att  the  kings  Manner  5  ? 

I  might  haue  beene  att  home  still." 


585 

John  says 


he'll  crack 
their  crowns 
if  they  don't 
go. 


The  devil 
take  the 
fellow  who 
brought  him 
there ! 


680     as  lohn  stoode  iflyting  G  ffast, 

he  saw  one  of  his  guests  come  at  the  last ; 

to  him  he  spake  ffull  bold, 
to  him  he  ffast  ffull  rode,7 
684     he  vayled  neither  hatt  nor  hood  ; 

sayth,  "  thou  hast  me  betold  !  [page  see] 

"  full  well  I  wott  by  this  light 
thai  thou  hast  disdainde  mee  right ; 
688         ffbr  wrat[h]  I  waxe  neere  wood  !  " 
The  Erie  sayd,  "by  Marry  bright, 
lohn,  thou  made  vs  a  merry  night ; 
thou  shalt  haue  nothing  but  good." 


Then  John 
sees  his 
guest, 
the  Earl, 


and 

reproaches 
him  with 
having 
told  of  him. 


The  Earl 
says  he  won't 
be  hurt, 


692     the  Erie  tooke  leaue  att  lohn  Reue, 
,        sayd,  "  thou  shalt  come  in  without  greefe  ; 
I  pray  thee  tarry  a  wh^le." 


1  Erse,  Chauc. — P. 

*  werse,  Chauc. — P. 

*  MS.  vpan  or  vpom. — F. 

*  Fortk,  caused.— P. 

5  Mannere. — P.     Dwelling;,   mansion. 
-F. 

VOL.  II.  Q  Q 


6  To  flyte,  i.e.  to  chide,  is  still  in  use 
in  Scotland.     Gloss?  to  Kamsay's  Ever 
green,   flyt,  to  scold,  chide.  A.-S.flitan, 
contenders,  rixari.     Gloss,  ad  G.  Doug*. 
—P. 

7  full  faste  rode.— P. 


586 


JOHN   DE   REEUE. 


and  goes  to 
tell  the  King 
that  John  is 
at  the  gate. 


King 

Edward 
orders  John 
to  be  brought 
in  to  table. 

The  Earl  ' 

describes 

John's 


armour, 


his  knifo, 


gloves, 


and  temper. 


John  tells 
the  porter  to 
let  him  in. 


the  Erie  into  the  hall  went, 
696     &  told  the  King  verament 

thai  l  lohn  Reeue  was  attthe  gate  ; 

"  to  no  man  list  hee  lout. 

a  rusty  sword  gird2  him  about, 
700         &  a  long  ffawchyon,  I  wott.3  " 

the  K.ing  said,  "  goe  wee  to  meate, 
&  bringe  him  when  4  wee  are  sett ; 

our  dame  shall  haue  a  play." 
704     "  he  hath  10  arrowes  in  a  thonge, 
some  are  short  &  some  are  long, 

the  sooth  as  I  shold  say ; 

"a  rusty  sallett5  vpon  his  crowne, 
708     his  hood  were  made  home  browne  6  ; 

there  may  nothing  him  dare ; 
a  thytill  hee  hath  ffast  in  his  hand 
that  hangeth  in  a  peake  band,7 
712         &  sharply e  itt  will  share. 

"  he  hath  a  pouch  hanging  ffull  wyde, 
a  rusty  Buckeler  on  the  other  syde, 
his  mittons  8  are  of  blacke  clothe. 
716     who-soe  to  him  sayth  ought  but  good, 
9  [I  swear  it  to  you  by  the  rood,] 
ffull  soone  hee  wilbe  wrothe." 

then  lohn  sayd,  "  Porter,  lett  mee  in  ! 
720     some  of  my  goods  thou  shalt  win ; 
I  loue  not  ffor  to  pray." 


know, 


1  That  delend.—  P. 

2  girdeth.—  P. 

*  weet.   Item,  wate,  wat,  i.e. 
knew,  wot.     Gloss,  ad  G-.  D.  —  P. 

4  him  in,  when.  —  P. 
m  6  Aliter  salad,  a  Gallic.  Salade,  a  Head 
piece.    Celada,  or  Zelada,  Spanish.    Lye. 
vid.  St.  6,  PI  3?  [1.  594  above].—  P. 


6  of  homespun  broww :  or  rather,  was 
of  homemade  brow[n].     See  P*  1,  St.  48 
[1.  284  above].— P. 

7  See  the  Picture  of  Chaucer.— P. 

8  Cp.  Twey  mitteynes  as  meter.    Piers 
Plowman's  Crede. — F. 

9  A  line  wanting. — P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


587 


the  Porter  sayd,  "  stand  abacke  ! 
&  them  come  neere  I  shall  thee  rappe, 
724         thou  carle,  by  my  ffay  !  " 


The  pointer 
says  he'll 
give  him 
a  rap. 


728 


lohn  tooke  his  fforke  l  in  his  hand, 
he  bare  his  fforke  on  an  End, 

he  thought  to  make  a  ffray  ; 
his  Capull  was  wight,2  &  corne  ffedd  ; 
vpon  the  Porter  hee  him  spedd, 

and  him  had  welnye  slaine.3 


On  which 
John 

charges  him 
with  his 
pitchfork, 


nearly 
kills  him, 


he  hitt  the  Porter  vpon  the  crowne, 
732     with  that  stroke  hee  ffell  downe, 

fforsooth  as  I  you  tell ; 
&  then  hee  rode  into  the  hall, 
&  all  the  doggs  both  great  &  small 4 
736         on  lohn  ffast  can  the  yell.5 


and  then 
rides  into  the 
King's  hall, 


740 


lohn  layd  about  as  hee  were  wood, 
&  4  hee  killed  as  hee  stood  ; 

the  rest  will  now  be  ware, 
then  came  fforth  a  squier  hend, 
&  sayd,  "  lohn,  I  am  thy  ffreind, 

I  pray  you  light  downe  heere." 


killing  four 
of  his  dogs 
on  the  way. 


One  squire 
asks  him  to 
dismount ; 


another  sayd,  "  giue  me  thy  fforke," 
744     &  lohn  sayd,  "  nay,  by  S?  William  of  Yorke,e 
ffirst  I  will  cracke  thy  crowne  !  " 


another,  to 
give  up  his 
fork; 


1  forke.  Perhaps  stocJce,  which  is  used 
by  Gawain  Doug/as  for  a  dagger,  rapier, 
-5£n.  7,  669,  "  veruque  sabello "  being 
render'd  "with  stokkis  sabellyne."  ab 
Ital.  stoico,  ensis  longior.  Gloss,  ad 
G.  D.  Stock,  caudex,  Truncus.  Jun.  It 
signifies  also  the  handle  of  anything. 
Johnson.  A  staff  or  long  Pole. — P. 
John's  tool  is  of  course  his  two-grained 
pitchfork  that  he  describes  in  line  319, 
and  asks  for  in  line  596  above. — F. 


2  Vid.  Pt.  1,  St.  36.— P. 
8  did  well-nye  slay.— P. 

4  Dogs  had  possession  of  the  whole  of 
the  houses  in  Early  English  days.     See 
the  directions  for  turning  them  out  of  the 
lord's  bedroom  in  Kussell,  the  Sloane  MS. 
Boke  of  Curtasye,  &c.  in  Babees  Book, 
p.  182, 1.  969  ;  p.  283,  1.  93,  p.  69.— F. 

5  gan  to  yell.— P. 

6  ?  what  saint. — F. 


Q  Q  2 


588 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


a  third,  his 
eword 


and  helmet. 


He  must  be 
very  stupid 
not  to  see  in 
whose  pre 
sence  he  is. 


"  What  the 
devil's  that 
to  you  ?  " 
says  John. 
"  I  shall 
•wear  my 
sword." 

The  Queen 
asks  who  he 
can  be. 


John  rides 
on, 


with  his 
pitchfork 
at  the 
charge, 


and 

frightens  the 
Queen. 


another  sayd,  "  lay  downe  thy  sword  ]  ; 
sett  vp  thy  horsse  ;  be  not  affeard  ; 
748         thy  bow,  good  lohn,  lay  downe  ; 

"  I  shall  hold  jour  stirroppe  ; 
doe  of  yo^r  pallett  &  jour  hoode 

ere  the  ffall,  as  I  troe. 

752     yee  see  not  who  sitteth  att  the  meate  ; 
yee  are  a  wonderous  silly  ffreake, 

&  alsoe  passing  sloe 2 !  " 

"  what  devill,"  sayd  lohn,  "  is  thai  ffor  thee  3  ? 
756     itt  is  my  owne,  soe  mote  I  thee  ! 
therfore  I  will  itt  weare." 

the  Queene  beheld  him  in  hast : 
"  my  lord,4  "  shee  sayd,  "ffor  gods  ffast, 
760         who  is  yonder  that  doth  ryde  ? 
such  a  ffellow  saw  I  nener  yore  5  ! 
shee  saith,  "  hee  hath  the  quaintest  geere, 

he  is  but  simple  of  pryde."  [page  367] 

764     right  soe  came  lohn  as  hee  were  wood ; 
he  vayled  neither  hatt  nor  hood, 

he  was  a  ffaley  6  ffreake  ; 
he  tooke  his  fforke  as  hee  wold  lust ; 
768     vp  to  the  dease  7  ffast  he  itt  thrust, 
the  Queene  ffor  ffeare  did  speake, 

&  sayd,  "  lords,  beware,  ffor  gods  grace  ! 
ffor  hee  8  will  ffrowte  9  some  in  the  fface 
772         if  yee  take  not  good  heede  !  " 


1  swerde.— P. 

2  slow.— P. 

8  ye  deuill  .  .  is  that  to  thee.— P. 

4  my  Lords.     Qu. — P. 

5  yore,  jamdudum,  jam  olim.      Jun. 
perhaps  here. — P. 

6  perhaps   stately. — P.  ?  Ferley,  won 
derful.— F. 


7  Dease,  or  Deis.     See  Pl.   2?    S*   6. 
—P. 

8  MS.  thee.— F. 

9  Perhaps  from  Fr.  f voter,  in  the  sense 
of  to  bang  or  beat  (battre,  f rapper),  or  in 
its  original  sense  to  rub.     To  frote  is  in 
use  in  this  sense  in  Shropshire.— T.  P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


589 


the  laughed  without  doubt, 
&  soe  did  all  that  were  about, 
to  see  lohn  on  his  steede. 

776     then  sayd  lohn  to  our  Queene, 

"  thou  mayst  be  proud,  dame,  as  I  weene, 

to  haue  such  a  ffawconer  l  I 
ffor  he  is  a  well  ffarrand  man, 
780     &  much  good  manner  2  hee  can, 
I  tell  you  sooth  in  ffere. 

3c  -  -  ] 

"but,  lord,"  hee  sayd,  "my  good,  its  thine; 
my  body  alsoe,  ffor  to  pine, 
784         ffor  thou  art  king  with  crowne. 
but,  lord,  thy  word  is  honora&Ze, 
both  stedffast,  sure,  and  stable, 
&  alsoe  4  great  of  renowne  ! 

788     "  therfore  haue  mind  5  what  thou  me  hight 
when  thou  with  me  [harbord  6]  a  night, 

a  warryson  7  that  I  shold  haue." 
lohn  spoke  to  him  with  sturdye  mood, 
792     hee  vayled  neither  hatt  nor  hood, 
but  stood  with  him  checkmate.8 

the  King  sayd,  "  fellow  mine, 
ffor  thy  capons  hott,  &  good  red  wine, 
796         much  thankes  I  doe  giue  thee." 
the  Queene  sayd,  "  by  Mary  bright, 
award  him  as  his  9  right ; 

well  aduanced  lett  him  bee  !  " 


The  rest 
laugh. 


John  tells 
the  Queen 
she  may  be 
proud  of  her 
falconer. 

He's  a  fine- 
looking 
man. 

[Then 
finding  that 
it's  King 
Edward  I.,] 
to  whom  his 
goods  and 
body  belong, 


he  reminds 
him  of  the 
pledge  he 
made  the 
night  he 
lodged  with 
him. 


Edward 
thanks  him 
for  his 
capons  and 
wine. 


1  fawconere. — P. 

2  manners. — P. 

s  Some  lines  wanting  here,  containmg 
the  discovery  of  the  King's  rank.  Some 
lines  seem  wanting  here. — P. 

4  also  delend. — P. 

5  nind  in  the  MS. — F. 
•  me  [passedst]  a. — P. 

7  warison,    reward.      Scottish.       See 


Gloss?  to  Ramsay's  Ever-green. — P. 

8  Qu.  Cheek-mate :  mate  is  companion, 
Socius,     sodalis,   q.d.     cheek    by    Jole 
This  passage  may  also  be  explain'd  from 
the  Term  in  chess ;  checkmate  being  when 
the  king  is  hem'd  in  by  some  inferiour 
Piece  ;  so  that  he  cannot  stir.— T.  P. 

9  forte  as  is,  or  as  it  is. — P. 


590 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


makes  him  a 
gentleman, 
gives  him  his 
house  and 
100Z.  a  year. 


800     the  "King  sayd  vntill  him  then, 
"  lohn,  I  make  thee  a  gentleman; 
thy  manner  place  l  I  thee  giue, 
&  a  lOO1?  to  thee  and  thine,2 
804     &  euery  yeere  a  tunn  of  red  wine 
soe  long  as  thou  dost  line." 


John  kneels 
and  thanks 
the  King, 


who  then 
puts  a  collar 
on  him,  and 
knights  him. 


but  then  lohn  began  to  kneele  : 
"  I  thanke  you,  my  Lord,  as  I  haue  sonle,3 
808         therof  I  am  well  payd.4  " 

thee  K.ing  tooke  a  coller  bright, 
&  sayd,  "  lohn,  heere  I  make  thee  a  knight 
w^'th  worshippe."     when  hee  sayd, 


John  fears 
that 


a  rope  will 
follow  the 
collar, 
and  doesn't 
like  it. 


812     then  was  lohn  euill  apayd,5 

&  amongst  them  all  thus  hee  sayd, 

"  ffull  oft  I  haue  heard  tell 
that  after  a  coller  comes  a  rope  ; 
816     I  shall  be  hanged  by  the  throate ; 
methinkes  itt  doth  not  well." 


But  they 
tell  him 
he  must  sit 
in  the  chief 
place. 


6  "  sith  thou  hast  taken  this  estate, 
thai  euery  man  may  itt  wott,7 
820         thou  must  begin  the  bord." 

then  lohn  therof  was  nothing  ffaine — 
I  tell  you  truth  w^th-outen  laine,8 — 
he  spake  neuer  a  word, 


He  does  so, 
wishing 
himself 
at  home. 


824     but  att  the  bords  end  he  sate  him  downe  ; 
ffor  hee  had  leeuer  beene  att  home 
then  att  all 9  their  ffrankish 10  flare  ; 


1  place  delend. — P.    dwelling   place. 

2  aid  thime  in  the  MS.— F. 
8  sele  or  seil. — P. 

4  forte  apayd,  i.e.  content. — P. 

5  i.e.  sad,  tristis.     (See  Jun8  )  uneasy. 


6  something  is  wanting  here. — P. 

7  wate,  or  weet. — P. 

8  lean,  celare,  occultare,  ab.  IsL  leina, 
launa,  occultare.     Lye. — P. 

9  All  is  redundant.— P. 

10  frank,  liber,  liberalis.     Jun. — P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


591 


ffor  there  was  wine,  well  I  wott ; 
828     royall  meates  of  the  best  sortes 
were  sett  before  him  there. 


a  gallon  of  wine  was  put  in  a  dishe  ; 
lohn  supped  itt  of,  both  more  &  lesse. 
832         "  ffeitch,"  Qwth  the  King,  "  such  more.1  " 

"  by  my  Lady,2  "  Q^oth  lohn,  "  this  is  good  wine  ! 
lett  vs  make  merry,  ffor  now  itt  is  time  ; 
Christs  curse  on  him  that  doth  itt  spare  8  !  " 


He  drinks 
off  a  gallon 
of  wine, 


and  wants  to 
make  merry. 


836     w^th  that  came  in  the  Porter  4  hend 
&  kneeled  downe  before  the  King, 
was  all 5  berunnen  6  w*'th  blood, 
then  the  ~K.ing  in  hart  was  woe, 
840     sayes,  "  Porter,  who  hath  dight  thee  soe  ? 
tell  on  ;  I  wax  neere  wood." 


The  porter 
comes  in 


all  over 
blood. 


"  Who  did 
this  ?  "  says 
the  King. 


"  Now  infaith,"  sayd  lohn,  "  that  same  was  I, 
for  to  teach  him  some  curtesye, 

844         7  ffor  thou  hast  taught  him  noe  good.  [page  368] 

for  when  thou  came  to  my  pore  place, 
w^th  mee  thou  found  soe  great  a  grace, 
8  noe  man  did  bidd  thee  stand  without ; 


"I,"  says 
John,  "  to 
teach  him 
manners. 


When  you 
came  to  me, 
if  anyone 
had  told  you 
to 


848     "  ffor  if  any  man  had  against  thee  spoken, 
his  head  ffull  soone  I  shold  haue  broken," 

lohn  sayd,  "  w^th-outen  doubt, 
therfore  I  warne  thy  porters  ffree, 
852     when  any  man  [comes]  out  of  my  9  Countrye, 
another  10  [time]  lett  them  not  be  soe  stout. 


stop  outside, 
I'd  have 
broken  his 
head. 


Your  porters 
mustn't  be 
so  saucy 
next  time." 


mare  or  mair. — P. 
forte  our  Lady. — P. 
on  them  that  spare. — P. 
MS.  Porters.— F. 
One  was  all  &c.— P. 
MS.  berumen. — F. 


7  For  none  thou  hast  him  taught.    Q,u. 
—P. 

8  None  bade  thee  stand  wzYhout. — P. 

9  Any  come  out,   or  comes  from  my 
&c.— P. 

10  delend  another. — P. 


592 


JOHN    DE    EEEUE. 


"  if  both  thy  porters  goe  walling  1  wood, 
begod  I  shall  reaue  2  their  hood, 
856         or  goe  on  ffoote  boote. 

but  thon,  Lord,  hast  after  me  sent, 
&  I  am  come  att  thy  commandement 
hastilye  w^'thouten  doubt." 


The  King 
acknow 
ledges 
that  his 
porter  was 
in  fault, 


but  makes 
John  kiss 
him 

and  be 
friends. 


860     the  King  sayd,  "  by  St.  lame  ! 
lohn,  my  porters  were  to  blame ; 

yee  did  nothing  but  right." 

he  tooke  the  case  into  his  hand  ; 

864     then  to  kisse  3  hee  made  them  gange  ; 

then  laughed  both  ~King  and  Knight. 
"  I  pray  you,"  quofh  the  Km#,  "  good  ffellows  bee." 
"  yes,"  q^oth  lohn,  "  soe  mote  I  thee, 
868         we  were  not  wrathe4  ore  night." 


The  Bishop  then  they  5  Bishopp  sayd  to  him  thoe, 

"  lohn,  send  hither  thy  sonnes  2  ; 

to  the  schoole  6  I  shall  them  ffind, 
872     &  soe  god  may  for  them  werke, 
thai  either  of  them  haue  a  kirke 
if  ffortune  be  their  ffreind. 


to  put 
John's  two 
sons  to 
school, 


and  says  the 
King  will 
find  his 

Ehters 
£111  (Is. 


"  also  send  hither  thye  daughters  both  7  ; 
876     2  marryages  the  Km#  will  garr  them  to  haue,8 
&  wedd  them  w^'th  a  ringe. 


1  walling,   i.e.  boiling,    fervent;     S. 
wellan.    Lye. — P. 

2  reave,  i.e.  bereave  (like  as  reft  is 
for  bereft)  to  take  away  by  stealth  or 
violence.     Johnson,      (used    rather    for 
rive,  i.e.  cleave.) — P. 

3  Cp.  Chaucer's  "making  the  Host  and 
Pardoner  kiss.     Cant.  Tales,  end  of  The 
Pardoneres  Tale  : 

'  And  ye,  sir  host,  that  ben  to  me  so  deere, 
I  pray  yow  that  ye  kisse  the  pardoner ; 


And  pardoner,  I  pray  you  draweth  yow 

ner, 

And  as  we  dede,  let  us  laugh  and  playe.' 
Anon  thay  kisse,  and  riden  forth  her 

waye. 
v.  iii.,  p.  105,  1.  502-6,  ed.  Morris.— F. 

wrothe. — P. 

the.— P. 

Forte  At  schoole.— P. 

baith.—  P. 

gar  them  have. — P. 


JOHN    DE    REEUE. 


593 


880 


went l  fforth,  lohn,  on  thy  way, 
looke  thou  be  kind  &  curteous  aye, 

of  meate  &  drinke  be  neu[e]r  nithing.2" 


884 


then  lohn  tooke  leaue  of  "Kiny  &  Queene,3 
&  after  att  all  the  court  by-deene, 

&  went  fforth  on  his  way. 
he  sent  his  daughters  to  the  ~King, 
&  they  were  weded  with  a  ringe 

vnto  2  squiers  gay. 


John  takes 
leave  of  the 
Court. 


The  King 
marries  his 
daughters 
to  two 
squires ; 


his  sonnes  both  hardye  &  wight, 
888     the  one  of  them  was  made  a  "Knight, 

&  fresh  in  euery  ffray ; 
the  other  a  parson  of  a  kirke, 
gods  seruice  ffor  to  worke, 
892         to  god  serue  4  night  &  day. 


knights 
one  of  "his 
sons, 


gives  the 
other  a 
living, 


896 


thus  lohn  Reeue  and  his  wiffe 

w^th  mirth  &  lolty  5  ledden  their  liffe  ; 

to  god  they  made  Laudinge. 
Hodgikin  long  &  hobb  6  of  the  lathe, 
they  were  made  ffreemen  bothe  7 

through  the  grace  of  the  K.ing  hend.8 


and  makes 
Hodgkin 
and  Hob 
freemen. 


904 


then  thought  [John]  9  on  the  Bishopps  word,   John  de 

Reeve 
keeps  open 
house 

ffor  guests  that  god  him  send ; 


900     &  euer  after  kept  open  bord 


till  death  ffeitcht  him  away 
to  the  blisse  that  lasteth  aye  : 
&  thus  lohn  Reeue  made  an  end. 


till  he  die  s. 


1  wend.— P. 

2  Nithing,  nequam,  naught,  It.  a  das 
tard   poltron :    here   it  seems  to  mean 
niggardly. — P.      A.-S.  nixing,  a  wicked 
man,   an    outlaw, — Bos  worth, — later,   a 
niggard. — F. 

8  Only  half  the  n  in  the  MS.— F. 


— F. 


to  serve  God. — P. 

Jollity.— P. 

A  stroke  like  a  t  follows  in  the  MS. 


baith.—  P. 

Perhaps  hend  King.- — P. 

thought  [he]. — P. 


594 


JOHN   DE   REEUE. 


God  save  all 
who 


have  heard 
this  story! 


thus  endeth  the  tale  of  Reeue  soe  wight.1 
god  thai  is  soe  ffull  of  might, 

to  heauen  their  soules  bring 
908     that  haue  heard  this  litle  story, 

that  lined  2  sometimes  in  the  south-west  countrye 
in  long  3  Edwards  dayes  our  ~K.ing. 

fins. 


1  See  Page  210  [of  MS.]  top   of  ye 
Page  (fell  some  time,  &c.).— P. 


2  Forte  happned. — P. 

3  long- [shanks]  or  without 


l.—P. 


595 


i. 

Sginrourt 

(See  p.  159,  Nos.  3  and  4.) 
1.  Agincourt,  or  the  English  Bowman's  Glory. 

A  spirited  black-letter  ballad,  of  early  date,  the  only 
existing  copy  of  which  was,  however,  "  printed  for  Henry 
Harper  in  Smithfield,"  not  long  anterior  to  the  Civil 
Wars;  it  bears  for  title  "Agincourt,  or  the  English  Bow 
man's  Glory,"  purporting  to  have  been  sung  "  to  a  pleasant 
new  tune."  Collier's  Shakespeare,  ed.  1858,  vol.  iii.  p.  538. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt ! 
Know  ye  not  Agincourt  ? 
Where  English  slue  and  hurt 

All  their  French  foemen  ? 
With  our  pikes  and  bills  brown, 
How  the  French  were  beat  downe, 

Shot  by  our  bowmen. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt ! 
Know  ye  not  Agincourt, 
Never  to  be  forgot 

Or  known  to  no  men  ? 
Where  English  cloth-yard  arrows 
Kill'd  the  French  like  tame  sparrows, 

Slaine  by  our  bowmen. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt! 
Know  ye  not  Agincourt, 
Where  we  won  field  and  fort  ? 
French  fled  like  wo-men 
By  land,  and  eke  by  water ; 
Never  was  seene  such  slaughter, 
Made  by  our  bowmen. 


596  AGINCOUKT   BALLADS. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt! 
Know  ye  not  Agincourt  ? 
English  of  every  sort, 

High  men  and  low  men, 
Fought  that  day  wondrous  well,  a 
All  our  old  stories  tell  us, 

Thanks  to  our  bowmen. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt ! 
Know  ye  not  Agincourt  ? 
Either  tale,  or  report, 

Quickly  will  show  men 
What  can  be  done  by  courage, 
Men  without  food  or  forage, 

Still  lusty  bowmen. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt ! 
Know  ye  not  Agincourt  ? 
Where  such  a  fight  was  fought, 

As,  when  they  grow  men, 
Our  boys  shall  imitate  ; 
Nor  need  we  long  to  waite ; 

They'll  be  good  bowmen. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt ! 
Know  ye  not  Agincourt  ? 
Where  our  fifth  Harry  taught 

Frenchmen  to  know  men  : 
And  when  the  day  was  done, 
Thousands  there  fell  to  one 

Good  English  bowman. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt ! 
.  Huzza  for  Agincourt ! 
When  that  day  is  forgot 

There  will  be  no  men. 
It  was  a  day  of  glory, 
And  till  our  heads  are  hoary 

Praise  we  our  bowmen. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt ! 

Know  ye  not  Agincourt  ? 

When  our  best  hopes  were  nought, 


AGINCOURT   BALLADS.  597 

Tenfold  our  foemen. 
Harry  led  his  men  to  battle, 
Slue  the  French  like  sheep  and  cattle  : 

Huzza !  our  bowmen. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt ! 
Know  ye  not  Agincourt  ? 
O,  it  was  noble  sport ! 

Then  did  we  owe  men ; 
Men,  who  a  victory  won  us 
'Gainst  any  odds  among  us  : 

Such  were  our  bowmen. 

Agincourt,  Agincourt ! 
Know  ye  not  Agincourt  ? 
Dear  was  the  victory  bought 

By  fifty  yeomen. 
Ask  any  English  wench, 
They  were  worth  all  the  French : 

Rare  English  bowmen  ! : 


2.  King  Henry  V.  his  Conquest  of  France 
In  Revenge  for  the  Affront  offered  by  the  French  King  ; 
In  sending  him  (instead  of  the  Tribute)  a  Ton 
of  Tennis  Balls. 

(From  the  copy  inChetham's  Library,  Manchester,  obligingly  transcribed 
by  Mr.  Jones,  the  Librarian.  Dr.  Eimbault  has  a  copy  of  this  ballad 
"Printed  and  sold  in  Aldermary  Church  Yard."  He  says  that  tra 
ditional  versions  of  it  also  appeared  in  the  Rev.  J.  C.  Tyler's  Henry 
of  Monmouth,  8vo.  vol.  ii.  p.  197,  and  in  Mr.  Dixon's  Ancient  Poems, 
Ballads,  and  Songs  of  the  Peasantry  of  England,  printed  by  the  Percy 
Society  in  1846.  Notes  and  Queries,  No.  23,  Jan.  25,  1851,  vol.  iii. 
p.  51,  col.  1.) 

As  our  King  lay  musing  on  his  bed, 
He  bethought  himself  upon  a  time, 

Of  a  tribute  that  was  due  from  France, 
Had  not  been  paid  for  so  long  a  time. 
Fal,  lal,  &c. 

1  In  the  original  it  is  "  Rare  English  women"  but  probably  a  mistake 
for  "  bowmen,"  the  printer  having  been  misled  by  the  word  "  wench  " 
above.  All  the  other  stanzas  end  with  "  bowmen." — J.  P.  Collier. 


598  AGINCOUKT   BALLADS. 

He  called  for  his  lovely  page, 

His  lovely  page  then  called  he  j 
Saying,  you  must  go  to  the  King  of  France, 

To  the  King  of  France,  sir,  ride  speedily. 
0  then  went  away  this  lovely  page, 

This  lovely  page  then  away  went  he  j 
Low  he  came  to  the  King  of  France, 

And  when  fell  down  on  his  bended  knee. 
My  master  greets  you,  worthy  sir, 

Ten  ton  of  gold  that  is  due  to  he, 
That  you  will  send  him  his  tribute  home, 

Or  in  French  land  you  soon  will  him  see. 
Fal,  lal,  &c. 

Your  master's  young  and  of  tender  years, 

Not  fit  to  come  into  my  degree : 
And  I  will  send  him  three  Tennis-Balls, 

That  with  them  he  may  learn  to  play. 

0  then  returned  this  lovely  page, 
This  lovely  page  then  returned  he, 

And  when  he  came  to  our  gracious  King, 
Low  he  fell  down  on  his  bended  knee. 

What  news  ?  what  news  ?  my  trusty  page, 
What  is  the  news  you  have  brought  to  me  ? 

1  have  brought  such  news  from  the  King  of  France, 
That  he  and  you  will  ne'er  agree. 

He  says,  you're  young  and  of  tender  years, 

Not  fit  to  come  into  his  degree ; 
And  he  will  send  you  three  Tennis*  Balls, 

That  with  them  you  may  learn  to  play. 
Recruit  me  Cheshire  and  Lancashire 

And  Derby  Hills  that  are  so  free  : 
No  marry'd  man  or  widow's  son, 

For  no  widow's  curse  shall  go  with  me. 
They  recruited  Cheshire  and  Lancashire, 

And  Derby  Hills  that  are  so  free  : 
No  marry'd  man,  nor  no  widow's  son, 

Yet  there  was  a  jovial  bold  company. 

0  then  we  march'd  into  the  French  land, 
With  drums  and  trumpets  so  merrily  ; 

And  then  bespoke  the  King  of  France, 
Lo  yonder  comes  proud  King  Henry. 


AGINCOURT   BALLADS.  599 

The  first  shot  that  the  Frenchmen  gave, 

They  kill'd  our  Englishmen  so  free. 
We  kill'd  ten  thousand  of  the  French, 

And  the  rest  of  them  they  run  away. 
And  then  we  marched  to  Paris  gates, 

With  drums  and  trumpets  so  merrily  ; 
O  then  bespoke  the  King  of  France, 

The  Lord  have  mercy  on  my  men  and  me, 
0  I  will  send  him  his  tribute  home, 

Ten  ton  of  gold  that  is  due  to  he, 
And  the  finest  flower  that  is  in  all  France 

To  the  Hose  of  England  I  will  give  free. 


600 


II. 


(tfctmert* 


(See  p.  200,  note  1.) 

WE  give  here  reprints  of  this  ballad  as  it  appeared  in  the  1st 
and  4th  editions  of  the  Reliques,  putting  in  italics  all  the  words 
changed  in  spelling  or  position,  or  for  other  words,  in  the  two 
editions,  so  as  to  make  Percy's  acknowledged  changes  apparent. 
His  unacknowledged  ones  we  must  leave  to  the  critical  power  of 
our  readers  to  ascertain. 


FIRST  EDITION,  1765. 

HEARKEN  to  me,  gentlemen, 

Come  and  you  shall  heare ; 
He  tell  you  of  two  of  the  boldest  breth 
ren, 

That  ever  born  y-were. 

The  tone  of  them  was  Adler  yonge,       5 
The  tother  was  kyng  Bstmere; 

The  were  as  bolde  men  in  their  deedes, 
As  any  were  farr  and  neare. 

As  they  were  drinking  ale  and  wine 
Within  kyng  Estmeres  halle  :  10 

Whan  will  ye  marry  a  wyfe,  brother, 
A  wyfe  to  gladd  us  all  ? 

Then  bespake  him  kyng  Estmere, 
And  answered  him  hastilee  : 

I  knowe  not  that  ladye  in  any  lande,    is 
That  is  able 4  to  marry  with  mee. 

Kyng  Adland  hath  a  daughter,  brother, 
Men  call  her  bright  and  sheene ; 

If  I  were  kyng  here  in  your  stead, 

That  ladye  sholde  be  queene.  20 


FOURTH  EDITION,  1794. 

HEARKEN  to  me,  gentlemen, 

Come  and  you  shall  heare  ; 
He  tell  you  of  two  of  the  boldest  breth 
ren  ! 
That  ever  borne  y-were. 

The  tone  of  them  was  "Adler  younge, 
The  tother  was  kyng  Estmere ; 

The  were  as  bolde  men  in  their  deeds, 
As  any  were  farr  and  neare. 

As  they  were  drinking  ale  and  wine 
Within  kyng  Estmeres  halle  2 : 

Whin  will  ye  marry  a  wyfe,  brother, 
A  wyfe  to  glad  us  all  ? 

Then  bespake  him  kyng  Estmere, 
And  answered  him  hastilee  3 : 

I  know  not  that  ladye  in  any  land 
That's  able  4  to  marrye  with  mee. 

Kyng  Adland  hath  a  daughter,  brother, 
Men  call  her  bright  and  sheene ; 

If  I  were  kyng  here  in  your  stead, 
That  ladye  shold  be  my  queene. 


Ver.  3.  brether.  fol.  MS. 

Ver.  10.  hia  brother's  hall.  fol.  MS. 


3  Ver.  14.  hartilye.  fol.  MS. 
*  He  means  fit,  suitable. 


KING    ESTMERE. 


601 


FIRST  EDITION,  1765. 

Sayes,  Eeade  me,  reade  me,  doare  bro 
ther, 

Throughout  merrye  England, 
Where  we  might  find  a  messenger 

Betweene  us  two  to  sende. 


FOURTH  EDITION,  1794. 

Sales,  Reade  mo,  reade  me,  deare  bro 
ther, 

Throughout  merry  England, 
Where  we  might  find  a  messenger 

Betwixt  us  towe  to  sende. 


>So^s,Youshal  ryde  yourself e,  brother,  25 

lie  beare  you  companee  ; 
Many  throughe  fals  messengers  are  de- 
ceivde, 

And  I  fearo  lest  soo  shold  wee. 


Sates,  You  shal  ryde  yourselfe,  brother, 

He  beare  you  companye  ; 
Many  throughe  fals  messengers  are  ]  de 
ceived, 

And  I  feare  lest  soe  shold  wee. 


Thus  the  renisht  them  to  ryde 

Of  twoe  good  renisht  steedcs,  30 

And  when  they  came  to  Jcyng  Adlands 
halle, 

Of  red  golde  shone  their  wccdcs. 


Thus  the  renisht  them  to  rydo 
Of  twoe  good  renisht  steeds, 

And  when   the   came  to  king  Adlands 

halle, 
Of  redd  gold  shone  their  weeds. 


And  whan  the  came  to  kyng  Adlands 
halle 

Before  the  goodlye  yate, 
Thcr  they  found  good  kyng  Adland       35 

Rearing  himselfe  theratt. 


And  when  the    came  to  kyng  Adlands 
hall 

Before  the  goodlye  gate, 
There  they  found  good  kyng  Adland 

Rearing  himselfe  theratt. 


Nowe  Christ  thee  save,  good  kyng  Ad 
land  ; 

Nowe  Christ  thee  save  and  see. 
Sayd,  you  be  welcome,  kyng  Estmere, 

Right  hartilye  unto  mee.  40 


Now    Christ   thee  save,  good  kyng  Ad 
land  ; 

Now  Christ  you  save  and  see. 
Sayd,  You  be  welcome,  king  Estmere, 

Right  hartilye  to  mee. 


You  have  a  daughter,  sayd  Adler  yonge, 
Men  call  her  bright  and  sheene, 

My  brother  wold  marry  e  her  to  his  wiffe, 
Of  Englande  to  bee  queene. 


You  have  a  daughter,  said  Adler  young 'e, 

Men  call  her  bright  and  sheene, 
My  brother  wold  marry  e  her  to  his  wiffe, 
Of  Englande  to  be  queene. 


Yestcrdaye  was  at  my  deare  daughter   45 
Syr  Bremor  the  kyng  of  Spayne  ; 

And  then  shce  nicked  him  of  naye, 
I  feare  sheele  doe  youe  the  same. 


Yesterday  was  att  my  deere  daughter 
Syr  Bremor  the  kyng  of  Spayne  ;  2 

And  then  she  nicked  him  of  naye, 
And  I  doubt  sheele  do  you  the  same. 


The  kyng  of  Spayne  is  a  foule  paynim, 
And  'leeveth  on  Mahound;  50 

And  pitye  it  were  that  fayre  lady& 
Shold  marrye  a  heathen  hound. 


The  kyng  of  Spayne  is  a  foule  paynim, 
And  'leeveth  3  on  Mahound ; 

And  pitye  it  were  that  fayre  ladyfe 
Shold  marrye  a  heathen  hound. 


But  grant  to  me,  sayes  kyng  Estmere, 

For  my  love  I  you  praye,  • 
That  I  may  see  your  daughter  deare     55 

Before  I  goe  hence  awaye. 


But  grant  to  me,  sayes  kyng  Estmere, 

For  my  love  I  you  praye ; 
That  I  may  see  your  daughter  deere 

Before  I  goe  hence  awaye. 


Ver.  27.  Many  a  man  ...  is.  fol.  MS.  "  Ver.  46.  The  king  his  sonne  of  Spayn.  fol.  MS. 

3  Misprinted  'leeve  thou. 


VOL.  II. 


R  R 


602 


KING    ESTMERE. 


FIRST  EDITION,  1765. 
Althoughe  itt  is  seven  yeare  and  more 

Syth  my  daughter  was  in  halle, 
Shee  shall  come  downe  once  for  your  sake 

To  glad  my  guestes  all.  60 

Downe  then  came  that  mayden  fayre, 

With  ladyes  lacede  in  pall, 
And  halfe  a  hondred  of  bolde  knightes, 

To  bring  her  from  bowre  to  hall ; 
And  eke  as  manye  gentle  squieres,         65 

To  waite  upon  them  all. 

The  talents  of  golde,  were  on  her  head 
sette, 

Hunge  lowe  downe  to  her  knee  ; 
And  everye  rynge  on  her  smalle  finger, 

Shone  of  the  chrystall  free.  70 

Sayes,  Christ  you  save,  mj  deare  madame ; 

Sayes,  Christ  you  save  and  see. 
Sayes,  You  be  welcome,  kyng  Estmere, 

Eight  welcome  unto  mee. 

And  iff  you  love  me,  as  yoii  saye,          75 

So  well  and  hartilee, 
All  that  ever  you  are  comen  about 

Soone  sped  now  itt  may  bee. 

Then  bespake  her  father  deare  : 

My  daughter,  I  saye  naye  ;  80 

Remember  well  the  kyng  of  Spayne, 
What  he  sayd  yesterdaye. 

He  wold    pull  downe   my  halles    and 
castles, 

And  reave  me  of  my  lyfe  : 
And  ever  Ifeare  that  paynim  Jcyng,       85 

Iff\  reave  him  of  his  wyfe. 

Your  castles  and  your  towres,  father, 

Are  stronglye  built  aboute ; 
And  therefore  of  that  foule  paynim 

Wee  neede  not  stande  in  doubte.        90 

Plyght  me  your  troth,  nowe,  kyng  Est- 
mere, 

By  heaven  and  your  righte  hand, 
That  you  will  marrye  me  to  your  wyfe, 

And  make  me  queene  of  your  land. 

Then  kyng  Estmere  he  plyght  his  troth  95 
By  heaven  and  his  righte  hand, 

That  he  wold  marrye  her  to  his  wyfe,      T 
And  make  her  queene  of  his  land. 


FOURTH  EDITION,  1794. 

Although  itt  is  seven  yeers  and  more 
Since  my  daughter  was  in  halle, 

She  shall  come  once  downe  for  your  sake 
To  glad  my  guestes  alle. 

Downe  then  came  that  mayden  fayre, 

With  ladyes  laced  in  pall, 
And  halfe  a  hundred  of  bold  knightes, 

To  bring  her  [from]  bowre  to  hall ; 
And  as  many  gentle  squiers, 

To  tend  upon  them  all. 

The  talents  of  golde  were  on  her  head 
sette, 

Hanged  low  downe  to  her  knee  ; 
And  everye  ring  on  her  small  finger, 

Shone  of  the  chrystall  free. 

Saies,  God  you  save,  my  deere  madam ; 

Saies,  God  you  save  and  see." 
Said,  You  be  welcome,  kyng  Estmere, 

Eight  welcome  unto  mee. 

And,  if  you.  love  me,  as  you  saye, 

Soe  well  and  hartilee, 
All  that  ever  you  are  comen  about 

Soone  sped  now  itt  shal  bee. 

Then  bespake  her  father  deare  : 
.  My  daughter,  I  saye  naye  ; 
Eemember  well  the  kyng  of  Spayne, 
What  he  sayd  yesterdaye. 

He  wold  pidl    downe    my  halles  and 
castles, 

And  reave  me  of  my  lyfe  : 
/  cannot  blame  him  if  he  doe, 

If  I  reave  him  of  his  wyfe. 

Your  castles  and  your  towres,  father, 

Are  stronglye  built  aboute  ; 
And  therefore  of  the  king  of  Spaine  1 

Wee  neede  not  stande  in  doubt. 

Plight  me  your  troth,  nowe,  kyng  Est 
mere, 

By  heaven  and  your  righte  hand, 
That  you  will  marrye  me  to  your  wyfe, 

And  make  me  queene  of  your  land. 

Then  kyng  Estmere  he  plight  his  troth 
By  heaven  and  his  righte  hand, 
hat  he  wolde  marrye  her  to  his  wyfe, 
And  make  her  queene  of  his  land. 


Ver.  80.  of  the  King  his  sonne  of  Spaine.  fol.  MS. 


KING   ESTMERE. 


603 


FIRST  EDITION,  1765. 

And  he  tooke  leave  of  that  ladye  fayre, 
To  goe  to  his  owne  countree,  100 

To   fetche   him   dukes   and   lordes   and 

knightes, 
That  marryed  the  might  bee. 

They  had  not  ridden  scant  a  myle, 

A  myle  forthe  of  the  towne, 
But  in  did  come  the  kyng  of  Spayne,  105 

With  kempes  many  a  one. 

But  in  did  come  the  kyng  of  Spayne, 
With  manye  a  grimme  barone, 

Tone  day  to  marrye  kyng  Adlands  daugh 

ter 
Tother  daye  to  carrye  her  home.      no 

Then  shee  sent  after  kyng  Estmere 

In  all  the  spede  might  bee, 
That  he  must  either  returne  and  fighte, 

Or  goe  home  and  lose  his  ladye. 

One  whyle  then  the  page  he  went,       115 

Another  whyle  he  ranne; 
Till  he  had  oretaken  kyng  Estmere 

I-wis,  he  never  blanne. 

Tydinges,  tydinges,  kyng  Estmere  ! 

What  tydinges  nowe,  my  boye  ?       120 
0  tydinges  I  can  tell  to  you, 

That  will  you  sore  annoye. 

You  had  not  ridden  scant  a  myle, 

A  myle  out  of  the  towne, 
But  in  did  come  the  kyng  of  Spayne  125 

With  kempes  many  a  one  : 

But  in  did  come  the  kyng  of  Spayne 
With  manye  a  grimme  barone, 

Tone    daye    to   marrye    king    Adlands 

daughter, 
Tother  daye  to  carrye  her  home.      130 

That  ladye  fayre  she  greetes  you  well, 
And  ever-more  well  by  mee  : 

You  must  either  turne  againe  and  fighte, 
Or  goe  home  and  lose  your  ladye. 


,  deare  brother,  135 
My  reade  shall  ryde  l  at  thee, 
Whiche  waye  we  best  may  turne   and 

fighte, 
To  save  this  fayre  ladye. 


FOURTH  EDITION,  1794. 

And  he  tooke  leave  of  that  ladye  fayre, 
To  goe  to  his  owne  countree, 

To  fetche   him   dukes   and  lordes   and 

knightes, 
That  marryed  the  might  bee. 

They  had  not  ridden  scant  a  myle, 

A  myle  forthe  of  the  towne, 
But  in  did  come  the  kyng  of  Spayne, 

With  kempes  many  one. 

But  in  did  come  the  kyng  of  Spayne, 

With  manye  a  bold  barone, 
Tone  day  to  marrye  kyng  Adlands  daugh 
ter, 

Tother  daye  to  carrye  her  home. 

Shee  sent  one  after  kyng  Estmere 

In  all  the  spede  might  bee, 
That  he  must  either  turne  againe  and 
fighte, 

Or  goe  home  and  loose  his  ladye. 

One  whyle  then  the  page  he  went, 

Another  while  he  ranne ; 
Till  he  had  oretaken  king  Estmere, 

/  wis,  he  never  blanne. 

Tydwgs,  ty dings,  kyng  Estmere ! 

What  tydinges  nowe,  my  boye  ? 
0,  tydinges  I  can  tell  to  you, 

That  will  you  sore  annoye. 

You  had  not  ridden  scant  a  mile, 

A  mile  out  of  the  towne, 
But  in  did  come  the  kyng  of  Spayne 

With  kempes  many  a  one  : 

But  in  did  come  the  kyng  of  Spayne 

With  manye  a  bold  barone. 
Tone    daye   to    marrye    king    Adlands 
daughter, 

Tother  daye  to  carry  her  home. 

My  ladyo  fayre  she  greetes  you  well, 
And  ever-more  well  by  mee  : 

You  must  either  turne  agaiue  and  fighte, 
Or  goe  home  and  loose  your  ladye. 

Sales,  Reade  me,  reade  me,  deere  brother, 
My  reade  shall  ryde  2  at  thee, 

Whether  it  is  better  to  turne  and  fighte, 
Or  goe  home  and  loose  my  ladye. 


Sic.  a  Sic  MS.  It  should  probably  be"  ryse,"  i.e.  my  counsel  shall  arise  from  thee.  See  ver.  140. 

R  R  2 


604 


KING   ESTMERE. 


FIRST  EDITION,  1 765. 
Now  hearken  to  me,  sayes  Adler  yonge, 

And  your  reade  must  rise  l  at  me,  140 
I  quickly e  will  devise  a  waye 

To  sette  thy  ladye  free. 

My  mother  was  a  western  e  woman, 

And  learned  in  gramarye,3 
And  when  I  learned  at  the  schole,       145 

Something  shee  taught  itt  mee. 

There  groweth  an   hearbe   within    this 
fielde, 

And  iff  it  were  but  knowne, 
His  color,  which  is  whyte  and  redd, 

Itt  will  make  blacke  and  browne  :   150 

His  color,  which  is  browne  and  blacke, 
Itt  will  make  redd  and  whyte ; 

That  sworde  is  not  in  all  Englande, 
Upon  his  coate  will  byte. 

And  you  shal  be  a  harper,  brother,      155 

Out  of  the  north  countree ; 
And  He  be  your  boye,  so  faine  of  fighte, 

To  beare  your  harpe  by  your  knee. 

And  you  shall  be  the  best  harper, 

That  ever  tooke  harpe  in  hand  ;       ieo 

And  I  will  be  the  best  singer, 
That  ever  sung  in  this 


Itt  shal  be  written  in  our  forheads 

All  and  in  gramaryb, 
That  we  towe  are  the  boldest  men, 

That  are  in  all  Christentye. 


165 


And  thus  they  renisht  them  to  ryde, 
On  towe  good  renish  steedes  ; 

And  whan  they  came  to  king  Adlands 

hall, 
Of  redd  gold  shone  their  weedes.    170 

And  whan  the  came  to  kyng  Adlands 
hall 

Untill  the  fayre  hall  yate, 
There  they  found  a  proud  porter 

Rearing  himselfe  theratt. 

Sayes,   Christ    thee    save,   thou    proud 
porter:  175 

Sayes,  Christ  thee  save  and  see. 
Nowe  you  be  welcome,  sayd  the  porter, 

Of  what  land  soever  ye  bee. 


FOURTH  EDITION,  1794. 

Now  hearken  to  me,  sayes  Adler  yonge, 
And  your  reade  must  rise2  at  me, 

I  quicklye  will  devise  a  waye 
To  sette  thy  ladye  free. 

My  mother  was  a  westerne  woman, 

And  learned  in  gramarye,3 
And  when  I  learned  at  the  schole, 

Something  shee  taught  itt  mee. 

There   growes   an    hearbe    within    this 
field, 

And  iff  it  were  but  knowne, 
His  color,  which  is  whyte  and  redd, 

It  will  make  blacke  and  brovme : 

His  color,  which  is  browne  and  blacke, 
Itt  will  make  redd  and  whyte  ; 

That  sworde  is  not  in  all  Englande, 
Upon  his  coate  will  byte. 

And  you  shal  be  a  harper,  brother, 

Out  of  the  north  countrye ; 
And  He  be  your  boy,  soe  faine  of  fighte, 

And  beare  your  harpe  by  your  knee. 

And  you  shal  be  the  best  harper, 
That  ever  tooke  harpe  in  hand ; 

And  I  wil  be  the  best  singer, 
That  ever  sung  in  this  lande. 

Itt  shal  be  written  in  oiir  forheads 

All  and  in  grammarye, 
That  we  towe  are  the  boldest  men, 

That  are  in  all  Christentye. 

And  thus  they  renisht  them  to  ryde, 
On  tow  good  renish  steedes  ; 

And  when  they  came  to  king  Adlands 

hall, 
Of  redd  gold  shone  their  weedes. 

And  whan  the  came  to  kyng  Adlands 
hall, 

Untill  the  fayre  hall  yate, 
There  they  found  a  proud  porter 

Bearing  himselfe  thcreatt. 


Christ    thee   save,    thou   proud 
porter ; 

Sayes,  Christ  thee  save  and  see. 
Nowe  you  be  welcome,  sayd  the  porter, 
Of  what  land  soever  ye  bee. 


Sic. 


Sic  MS. 


See  at  the  end  of  this  ballad,  Note  ***  [not  reprinted  here.— F.] 


KING    ESTMERE. 


605 


FIRST  EDITION,  1765. 

We  been  harpers,  sayd  Adler  yonge, 
Come  out  of  the  northe  countree ;    iso 

We  beene  come  hither  untill  this  place, 
This  proud  weddinge  for  to  see. 

Sayd,  And  your  color  were  white  and 
redd, 

As  it  is  blacke  and  browne, 
lid  saye  king  Estmere  and  his  brother  135 

Were  comen  untill  this  towne. 

Then  they  pulled  out  a  ryng  of  gold, 
Layd  itt  on  the  porters  arme  : 

And  ever  we  will  thee,  proud  porter, 
Thow  wilt  saye  us  no  harme.  190 

Sore  he  looked  on  kyng  Estmere, 
And  sore  he  handled  the  ryng, 

Then  opened  to  them  the  fayre  hall  yates, 
He  lutt  for  no  kind  of  thyng. 

Kyng  Estmere  he  light  o^This  steede  195 
Up  aft  the  fayre  hall  board  ; 

The  frothe,  that  came   from  his    brydle 

bitte, 
Light  on  kyng  Bremors  beard. 

Saycs,  Stable  thou  steede,  thou  proud 
harper, 

Goe  stable  him  in  the  stalle  ;  200 

Itt  doth  not  beseeme  a  proud  harper 

To  stable  him  in  a  kyngs  halle. 

My  ladd  he  is  so  lithor,  he  sayd, 
He  will  do  nought  that's  meete  ; 

And  aye  that  1  cold  but  find  the  man,  205 
Were  able  him  to  beate. 

Thou  speakst  proud  wordes,  sayd  the  Pay- 
nim  kyng, 

Thou  harper  here  to  mee ; 
There  is  a  man  within  this  halle, 

That  will  beate  thy  lad  and  thee,    210 

0  lett  that  man  come  downe,  he  sayd, 

A  sight  of  him  wolde  I  see  ; 
And  whan  hee  hath  beaten  well  my  ladd, 

Then  he  shall  beate  of  mee. 

Downe  then  came  the  kemperye  man,  215 
And  looked  him  in  the  eare; 

For  all  the  golde,  that  was  under  heaven, 
He  durst  not  neigh  him  neare. 


FOURTH  EDITION,  1794. 

Wee  beene  harpers,  sayd  Adler  yoiinge, 
Come  out  of  the  northe  country e ; 

Wee  beene  come  hither  untill  this  place, 
This  proud  weddinge  for  to  see. 

Sayd,   And  your  color   were  white  and 
redd, 

As  it  is  blacke  and  browne, 
I  wold  saye  king  Estmere  and  his  brother 

Were  comen  untill  this  towne. 

Then  they  pulled  out  a  ryng  of  gold, 
Layd  itt  on  the  porters  arme  : 

And  ever  we  will  thee,  proud  porter, 
Thow  wilt  saye  us  no  harine. 

Sore  he  looked  on  kyng  Estmere, 
And  sore  he  handled  the  ryng, 

Then  opened  to  them  the  fayre  hall  yates, 
Ho  lett  for  no  kind  of  thyng. 

Kyng  Estmere  he  stabled  his  steede 

Soe  fayre  att  the  hall  bord; 
The  froth,  that  came  from  his  brydle 
bitte, 

Light  in  kyng  Bremors  beard. 

Sctics,    Stable    thy    steed,   thou    proud 
harper, 

Sales,  Stable  him  in  the  stalle  ; 
It  doth  not  beseeme  a  proud  harper 

To  stable  'him'  in  a  kyngs  halle.1 

My  ladde  he  is  so  lither,  he  said, 
He  will  doe  nought  that's  meete  ; 

And  is  thirc  any  man  in  this  hall 
Were  able  him  to  beate. 

Thou  speakst  proud  words,  saycs  the  king 
of  Spaine, 

Thou  harper  here  to  mee  : 
There  is  a  man  within  this  halle, 

Will  beate  thy  ladd  and  thee. 

0  let  that  man  come  downe,  he  said, 

A  sight  of  him  wold  I  see  ; 
And  when  hee  hath  beaten  well  my  ladd, 

Then  he  shall  beate  of  mee. 

Downe  then  came  the  kemperye  man, 
And  looked  him  in  the  eare ; 

For  all  the  gold,  that  was  under  heaven, 
He  durst  not  neigh  him  neare. 


Ver.  202.    To  stable  his  steede.  fol.  MS. 


606 


KING    ESTMERE. 


FIKST  EDITION,  1765. 
And  how  nowe,  kempe,  sayd  the  kyng  of 

Spayne, 

And  how  what  aileth  thee  ?  220 

He  sayes,  lit  is  written  in  his  forhead    ' 

All  and  in  gramarye, 
That  for   all  the    gold   that   is    under 

heaven, 
I  dare  not  neigh  him  nye. 

KyngEstmere  then  pulled  forth  his  harpe,  225 

And  playd  theron  so  sweete : 
Upstarte  the  ladye  from  the  kynge, 

As  hee  sate  at  the  meate. 

Nowe  stay  thy  harpe,  thou  proud  harper, 
Now  stay  thy  harpe,  I  say  ;  230 

For  an  thou  playest  as  thou  beginnest, 
Thou'lt  till  my  bride  awaye. 

He  strucke  upon  his  harpe  agayne, 
And  playd  bothfayre  and  free-, 

The  ladye  was  so  pleasde  theratt,          235 
She  laught  loud  laughters  three. 

Nowe  sell  me  thy  harpe,  sayd  the  kyng  of 

Spayne, 

Thy  harpe  and  stryngs  eche  one, 
And  as  many  gold  nobles    thou    shalt 

have, 
As  there  be  stryngs  thereon.  240 

And  what  wold  ye  doe  with  my  harpe, 
he  sayd, 

7/IdidselH^e? 
To  playe  my  wiffe  and  me  a  FITT, 

When  abed  together  we  bee. 

Now  sell  me,  syr  kyng,  thy  bryde  soe 
gay,  245 

As  shee  sitts  laced  in  pall, 
And  as  many  gold  nobles  I  will  give, 

As  there  be  rings  in  the  hall. 

And  what  wold  ye  doe  with  my  bryde 
so  gay, 

Iff  I  did  sell  her  yee  ?  ,  250 

More  seemelye  it  is  for  her  fayre  bodye 

To  lye  by  mee  than  thee. 

Hee  played  agayne  both  loud  and  shrille, 

And  Adler  he  did  syng, 
"  0  ladye,  this  is  thy  owne  true  love ;  255 

"  Noe  harper  but  a  kyng. 


FOURTH  EDITION,  1794. 

And  how  nowe,  kempe,  said  the  kyng  of 

Spaine, 

And  how  what  aileth  thee  ? 
He  saies,  It  is  writt  in  his  forhead 

All  and  in  gramarye, 
That  for  all  the    gold  that  is  under 

heaven, 
I  dare  not  neigh  him  nye. 

Then  kyng  ~Estme?e  pulld  forth  his  harpe, 

And  plaid  a  pretty  thinge : 
The  ladye  upstart  from  the  b&rde, 

And  wold  have  gone  from  the  ' 


Stay  thy  harpe,  thou  proud  harper, 
For  Gods  love  I  pray  thee 

For  and  thou  play es  as  thou  beginns, 
Thou'lt  till J  my  bryde  from  mee. 

He  stroake  upon  his  harpe  againe, 
And  playd  a  pretty  thinge ; 

The  ladye  lough  a  loud  laughter, 
As 


Saies,  sell  me    thy    harpe,   thou  proud 

harper, 

And  thy  stringes  ail, 
For  as  many  gold  nobles,   '  thou  shalt 

have' 
As  heere  bee  ringes  in  the  hall. 

What  wold  ye  doe  with  my  harpe,  '  he 
sayd,' 

If  I  did.  sell  ittyee? 
11  To  playe  my  wiffe  and  me  a  riTT,2 

When  abed  together  wee  bee." 

Now  sell  me,  quoth  hee,  thy  bryde  soe 
gay, 

As  shee  sitts  by  thy  knee, 
And  as  many  gold  nobles  I  will  give, 

As  leaves  been  on  a  tree. 

And  what  wold  ye  doe  with  my  bryde 
soe  gay, 

Iff  I  did  sell  her  thee? 
More  seemelye  it  is 'for  her  fayre  bodye 

To  lye  by  mee  then  thee. 

Hee  played  agayne  both  loud  and  shrille,3 

And  Adler  he  did  syng, 
"  0  ladye,  this  is  thy  owne  true  love ; 

"  Noe  harper,  but  a  kyng. 


1  i.e.  Entice.     Vid.  Gloss. 

2  i.e.  a  tune,  or  strain  of  music.     See  Gloss. 

3  Ver.  253.  Some  liberties  have  been  taken  in  the  following  stanzas  ;  but  wherever  this  edition 
differs  from  the  preceding,  it  hath  been  brought  nearer  to  the  folio  MS. 


KING    ESTMERE. 


607 


FIRST  EDITION,  1765. 

"  0  ladye,  this  is  thy  owne  true  love, 
"  As  playnlye  thou  mayest  see  ; 

"And  He  rid  thee  of  that  foule  paynim, 
"  Who  partes  thy  love  and  thee."  260 

The  ladye  louked,  the  ladye  blushte, 
And  blushte  and  lookt  agayne, 

While  Adler  he  hath  drawne  his  brande, 
And  hath  sir  Bremor  slayne. 

Up  then  rose  the  kemperye  men,         265 

And  loud  they  gan  to  crye : 
Ah !  traytors,  yee  have  slayne  our  kyng, 

And  therefore  yee  shall  dye. 

Kyng  Estmere  threwe  the  harpe  asyde, 
And  swith  he  drew  his  brand ;         270 

And  Estmere  he,  and  Adler  yonge 
Eight  stiffe  in  stour  can  stand. 

And  aye  their  swordes  soe  sore  can  byte, 
Throughe  help  of  gramarye, 

That  soone  they  have  slayne  the  kempery 
men,  275 

Or  forst  them  forth  to  flee. 

Kyng  Estmere  tooke  that  fayre  ladye, 
And  marryed  her  to  his  wyfe, 

And  brought  her  home  to  merry e  England 
With  her  to  leade  his  lyfe.  280 


FOURTH  EDITION,  1794. 

"  0  ladye,  this  is  thy  owne  true  love, 
"  As  playnlye  thou  mayest  see  ; 

"  And  He  rid  thee  of  that  foule  paynim, 
"  Who  partes  thy  love  and  thee." 

The  ladye  looked,  the  ladye  blushte, 
And  blushte  and  lookt  agayne,1 

While  Adler  he  hath  drawne  his  brande, 
And  hath  the  Sowdan  slayne. 

Up  then  rose  the  kemperye  men, 

And  loud  they  gan  to  crye  : 
Ah  !  traytors,  yee  have  slayne  our  kyng, 

And  therefore  yee  shall  dye. 

Kyng  Estmere  threwe  the  harpe  asyde, 
And  swith  he  drew  his  brand; 

And  Estmere  he,  and  Adler  yonge 
Eight  stiffe  in  stour  can  stand. 

And  aye  their  swordes  soe  sore  can  fyte, 
Throughe  help  of  Grramarye, 

That  soone  they  have  slayne  the  kempery 

men, 
Or  forst  them  forth  to  flee. 

Kyng  Estmere  tooke  that  fayre  ladye, 
And  marryed  her  to  his  wiffe, 

And  brought  her  home  to  merry  England 
With  her  to  leade  his  life. 


These  lines  must  be  Percy's  own. — F. 


608 


III. 
Beginning  of  <§U|>  atttr  ^fttllfc,  p.  201. 

PERCY  says  in  his  Reliques,  iii.  105,  1st  ed.,  that  his  text  of 
"  The  Legend  of  Sir  Gruy  "  is  "  Printed  from  an  ancient  MS. 
copy  in  the  Editor's  old  folio  volume,  collated  with  two  printed 
ones,  one  of  which  is  in  black  letter  in  the  Pepys  collection." 
As  he  tore  the  beginning  of  it  out  of  his  Folio,  I  applied  to  the 
Librarian  of  Magdalene  to  correct  by  the  Pepys  copy  a  transcript 
of  the  first  twenty-two  stanzas  of  Percy's  text ;  but  as  I  could 
not  give  a  reference  to  the  volume  and  page  where  the  ballad  is, 
and  the  Librarian's  catalogue  is  not  yet  complete,  he  has  not  sent 
me  the  collation.  I  am  therefore  obliged  to  print  the  beginning 
of  the  "  inferior  copy  in  Eitson's  Ancient  Songs  and  Ballads, 
ii.  193  "(Child). 


SIR  GUY   OF  WARWICK. 


W  AS  ever  knight,  for  ladys  sake, 

So  toss'd  in  love,  as  I,  Sir  Guy, 
For  Philiis  fair,  that  lady  bright 

As  ever  man  beheld  with  eye  ? 
She  gave  me  leave  myself  to  try 

The   valiant  knight  with  shield  and 

spear, 
Ere  that  her  love  she  would  grant  me ; 

Which  made  me  venture  far  and  near. 

The  proud  Sir  Guy,  a  baron  bold, 

In  deeds  of  arms  the  doughty  knight, 
That  every  day  in  England  was, 

With   sword    and   spear  in    field    to 

fight; 
An  English  man  I  was  by  birth, 

In  faith  of  Christ  a  Christian  true ; 
The  wicked  laws  of  infidels 

I  sought  by  power  to  subdue. 

Two  hundred  twenty  years,  and  odd 
After  our  saviour  Christ  his  birth, 

When  king  Athelstan  wore  the  crown, 
I  lived  here  upon  the  earth. 


Sometime  I  was  of  Warwick  earl, 
And,  as  I  said,  on  very  truth, 

A  ladys  love  did  me  constrain 

To  seek  strange  ventures  in  my  youth : 

To  try  my  fame  by  feats  of  arms, 

In  strange  and  sundry  heathen  lands ; 
Where  I  atchieved,  for  her  sake, 

Right  dangerous  conquests  with  my 

hands. 
For  first  I  sail'd  to  Normandy, 

And  there  I  stoutly  won  in  fight, 
The  emperours  daughter  of  Almain, 

From  many  a  valiant  worthy  knight. 

Then  passed  I  the  seas  of  Greece, 

To  help  the  emperour  to  his  right, 
Against  the  mighty  soldans  host 

Of  puissant  Persians  for  to  fight : 
Where  I  did  slay  of  Saracens 

And  heathen  pagans,  many  a  man, 
And  slew  the  soldans  cousin  dear, 

Who  had  to  name,  doughty  Colbron. 


BEGINNING   OF   GUY   AND   PHILLIS. 


609 


Ezkeldered,  that  famous  knight, 

To  death  likewise  I  did  pursue, 
And  Almain,  king  of  Tyre,  also, 

Most  terrible  too  in  fight  to  view  : 
I  went  into  the  soldans  host, 

Being  thither  on  ambassage  senb, 
And  brought  away  his  head  with  me, 

I  having  slain  him  in  his  tent. 

There  was  a  dragon  in  the  land, 

Which  I  also  myself  did  slay, 
As  he  a  lion  did  pursue, 

Most  fiercely  met  me  by  the  way. 
From  thence  I  pass'd  the  seas  of  Greece, 

And  came  to  Pavy  land  aright, 
Where  I  the  duke  of  Pavy  kill'd, 

His  heinous  treason  to  requite. 

And  after  came  into  this  land, 

Towards  fair  Phillis,  lady  bright ; 
For  love  of  whom  I  travel' d  far, 

To  try  my  manhood  and  my  might. 
Eut  when  I  had  espoused  her, 

I  stay'd  with  her  but  forty  days, 
But  there  I  left  this  lady  fair, 

And  then  I  went  beyond  the  seas. 


All  clad  in  gray,  in  pilgrim  sort, 

My  voyage  from  her  I  did  take, 
Unto  that  blessed  holy  land, 

For  Jesus  Christ  my  saviours  sake  : 
Where  I  earl  Jonas  did  redeem, 

And  all  his  sons,  which  were  fifteen, 
Who  with  the  cruel  Saracen, 

In  prison  for  long  time  had  been. 

I  slow  the  giant  Amarant, 

In  battle  fiercely  hand  to  hand: 
And  doughty  Barknard  killed  I, 

The  mighty  duke  of  that  same  land. 
Then  I  to  England  came  again, 

And  here  with  Colbron  fell  I  fought, 
An  ugly  giant,  which  the  Danes 

Had  for  their  champion  hither  brought. 

I  overcame  him  in  the  field, 

And  slew  him  dead  right  valiantly ; 
Where  I  the  land  did  then  redeem 

From  Danish  tribute  utterly  ; 
And  afterwards  I  offered  up 

The  use  of  weapons  solemnly, 
At  Winchester,  whereas  I  fought, 

In  sight  of  many  far  and  nigh. 

In  Windsor-forest,  &c. 


Eitson.     A  Select  Collection  of  English  Songs,  vol.  ii.  p.  296-299. 
Part  IV.,  'Ancient  Ballads. 


VOL.    II. 


s  s 


INDEX, 


I 

•AGE 

i 

•AGE 

334 

Hugh  Spencer       .... 

290 

Agincourte  Battell          .         .158, 

595 

Amongst  the  Mirtles 

35 

I  liue  where  I  loue 

325 

Ay  me,  Ay  me  !  Pore  Sisley  and 

43 

John  a  Side            .... 

203 

John  de  Reeue 

559 

Bell  my  Wyffe  (photolithograph  in 

320 

King    Estmere,    Percy's    versions. 

Bessie  off  Bednall 

279 

(See  note,  p.  200)  .        . 

600 

Bishoppe  &  Browne 

265 

Kinge  Adler           .... 

296 

Boy  and  Mantle    . 

301 

Kinge  &  Miller     .         . 

147 

Buckingham  betrayd  by  Banister 

253 

Ladyes  Fall  ..... 

246 

Gales  Voyage         .... 

136 

Libius  Disconius  .         . 

404 

Chevy  Chase          .... 

1 

Childe  Maurice      .... 

500 

Newarke        .        .         . 

33 

Childe  Waters       . 

269 

Northumberland       betrayd       by 

Cloris,  farewell,  I  needs  must  go    . 

21 

Dowglas         .... 

217 

Come,  come,  come,  shall  wee  masque 
or  mum  ? 

52 

Risinge  in  the  Northe    .         . 

210 

Conscience    

174 

Sir  Triamore         .... 

78 

•p.        ,               T?    MJ 

1QA 

400 

jL/urnam  JL  eiide      .... 
Earle  Bodwell       .... 

JL  <s\J 

260 

The  -3£giptian  Queene   . 

26 

338 

The  Emperour  &  the  Childe  . 

390 

Faine  wolde  I  change  my  maiden 

The  Grene  Knight 

56 

Life       

46 

The  Kinge  enjoyes  his  Rights  againe 

24 

Guy  &  Colebrande         .         .         . 

509 

The  Tribe  of  Banburye 
The    Worlde  is  changed,   &   wee 

39 

Guy  &  Phillis       ...   608, 

201 

have  Choyces 

37 

Guye  &  Amarant  .... 

136 

Guye  of  Gisborne 

227 

When  first  I  sawe  her  Face   . 

48 

Herefford  &  Norfblke    . 

238 

When  Love  with  unconfined  Wings 
White  Rose  &  Red 

17 
312 

Hollowe,  me  Fancye 

30 

How  fayre  shee  be         ... 

50 

Younge  Andre  we  . 

327 

END    OF   THE    SECOND   VOLUME. 


SPOTTISWOODE  AND  CO.,  PRINTER?,  NEW-STREET  SQUARE  AND  PARLIAMENT  STREET. 


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